Higher Education
by knittycat99
Summary: Kurt changes after Dalton.  Puck notices.  What happens when Puck drops everything and drops in on Kurt Freshman year of college.  A Puck/Kurt futurefic, with two chapters of Kurt/Blaine to set the stage.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is a complete series. Due to time constraints, I'll be posting half of it now (Saturday morning) and the rest of it tomorrow (Sunday afternoon). Enjoy. There's two chapters of Kurt/Blaine before the Puck/Kurt goodness.

* * *

><p>Every morning when he got ready for school, Blaine packed himself away beneath his Dalton uniform and a palm-full of hair gel. He schooled his expressions, muted his personality. Whenever, in the normal course of his day, he felt like showing himself, he remembered what his father told him the day he left public school: "If you didn't flaunt it, you'd fit in so much better." His two years at Dalton had been a mixture of emotions. That he was bully-free was a blessing. That he could show off with the Warblers helped dissipate the feeling like he was suffocating beneath a sea of conformity (and that damn uniform tie). But every day, Blaine felt like he died a little inside, like he lost a little bit more of what made him unique.<p>

And then, that day on the stairs when Kurt asked him for help, it was like color and sweet air. Blaine knew two things immediately: no way was Kurt a new student, and this boy was who he would have been, could have been, if he'd stayed and fought: more himself than he was now, and utterly miserable.

Even though Dalton had a no tolerance policy for bullying, it wasn't paradise and Blaine knew it. There were still acceptable standards of behavior, and Blaine felt like if he just helped Kurt through that he'd have an easier time adjusting. Okay, that was kind of a lie. What Blaine really thought was that if he helped save Kurt, he'd be saving himself, too. The plus side to all the help was getting to spend lots of time with Kurt because he liked Kurt. A lot. So of course he pretended that he didn't, pretended that they were nothing more than friends. He wouldn't have minded moving things along, maybe try his hand at dating, but he didn't want to ruin things. Hanging around with Kurt gave him something he'd never had before, something much more valuable than his first boyfriend: a true friend who was also gay. And, as the months went by, that seemed like it would be enough.

* * *

><p>Once he adjusted to life at Dalton, Kurt started learning things about himself. Thanks to the uniform, and the decided lack of slushie facials and locker-slams, he didn't need to expend energy on fashion, fabulousness, and self-preservation. Instead, he learned that he liked feeling like one of the guys. He started speaking up in class, and working harder on his schoolwork. He'd never been a slouch academically, but being challenged by the teachers and coursework at Dalton made him want to step up and meet that challenge. He discovered that Chemistry was its own beautiful language, that he (surprisingly) liked Latin better than French, and that he was a good writer. When the Warblers ran an after-school chorus workshop in the lower school, Kurt realized that he really liked working with kids. Blaine started taking him to Columbus on Saturday mornings to volunteer with Project Angel Heart; afterwards they would go for lunch with some of the other volunteers, and once in a while they would stick around for open hours at the queer youth center. Kurt liked having that kind of connection with the gay community. Lots of the kids at the youth center were like him and Blaine, isolated and lonely during the week and charged with making a long drive from their hometowns to the city if they wanted to feel slightly less alone. On those nights, he and Blaine were frequently silent in the car on the way back to Dalton, letting their thoughts from the day settle around them.<p>

Kurt knew that Blaine felt suffocated at Dalton, that he wished he could be more true to who he was. Conversely, after Christmas break Kurt began to feel more secure in himself. When he tried to explain it to Blaine, he had trouble finding the right words (something he got from his dad). Later, when he journaled about it for his writing class, the words flowed: _The way I always acted in Lima was a shield. If I dressed to get attention and acted a certain way, all people would see was the surface Kurt. Nobody bothered to dig deeper because it appeared that I put my whole self out there for all to see. What I really did was keep my whole self safe by putting a tiny bit out there. The protection at Dalton exists beyond the no-tolerance policy. The expected conformity and the uniform, and even the way the Warblers are run, allow for all of us to dig beyond the surface. Instead of focusing on the little parts of ourselves, we have the time to really grow. I just wish I knew what I was protecting by hiding behind my clothes and personality, and who I was going to grow to be._ He showed that to Blaine, finally, after his frustrated attempts to verbalize it again fell flat. Blaine had looked at him with compassion and understanding, and Kurt thought that maybe he had gotten it right after all.

* * *

><p>Blaine spent the better part of winter and early spring hanging out with Kurt every chance he got. He watched Kurt grow more confident, and with that confidence came other changes: his friend's sometimes frenetic behavior calmed, his biting wit grew less caustic, and his honesty began to come through as genuine and kind rather than scathing. Most importantly, a look of deeper self-awareness relaxed his features. Kurt was gradually coming into his own. On their Saturdays in Columbus, the "old" Kurt was on full display, though a touch less dramatic. Blaine was the only one at Dalton who really got to see it, unless either of their roommates happened to be around when they were hanging out together. Which was why Blaine was so surprised when Kurt showed up at Warblers in dramatic black. And then he began to sing. Blaine wasn't sure what he <em>had<em> been expecting, but he knew that "Blackbird" wasn't it. Kurt's voice was maturing, his range broadening. The song suited his voice perfectly, and was unlike many of the songs Blaine had heard Kurt sing in the months they'd been friends. The boy could belt Broadway like nobody's business, and he still had enough falsetto to sing above Blaine when they performed impromptu duets to whatever was on iPods or radios in cars and dorm rooms. But Blaine had rarely heard Kurt's voice stripped down like this. It was like a sucker-punch, packed full of emotion that didn't shine through in more elaborate arrangements. As he listened to Kurt sing, as he watched while Kurt laid his heart bare, he just _knew_. He _had_ to sing with him at regionals. And it was time to come clean.

The admission was surprisingly easy, coming as it did on the heels of the Warblers letting Blaine pick Kurt as a duet partner. He didn't sense that Kurt was surprised in the least; in fact, he thought he saw a flicker of relief cross Kurt's face in the instant before Blaine leaned over and kissed him. Blaine felt sheepish, after, and felt a soft blush creep from beneath his collar as he muttered "We should be practicing."

"I thought we were." An equal blush spread across Kurt's cheeks and jaw, which Blaine found instantly adorable. Seriously, what had he been waiting for?

The kiss was everything Kurt had been hoping for, everything his first kiss should have been. Everything Karofsky took from him against the cold metal and bright lights of the locker room that October morning. It was soft and gentle, and left him breathless and giddy with sweet anticipation. All of his senses were suddenly heightened. When he leaned in to kiss Blaine again, he could feel the subtle strength of Blaine's hand on his neck. He could smell a hint of dryer sheets mingling with shampoo and soap. Blaine's mouth tasted like spearmint gum with an undertone of coffee. He was warm and real and _there_, and Kurt knew with every heartbeat that his life had changed.

Being gay was something Kurt had always known about himself in a very abstract kind of way, like he knew that his dad loved him. Of course his dad had concrete ways of showing his love. But until he kissed Blaine (or Blaine kissed him) he had never felt so personally connected to his sexuality. It had always been something he was, but now it was, irrevocably, _who_ he was. He could almost feel the tiny floating pieces of the Kurt Hummel puzzle clicking into place. When he broke away from the kiss to catch his breath a second time, he ran his hand awkwardly through his hair. It was at once a foreign gesture and the most natural movement in the world. And better yet, it made Blaine smile. Kurt loved that unguarded smile, the same one Blaine wore during Warblers performances, while hanging out with Kurt, or joking with the other volunteers in the kitchen on Saturday mornings.

During the week, as they practiced both kissing and their duet, Kurt got to see more of that smile. It warmed him to the tips of his toes every time. Backstage at Regionals, when the thought he would keel over from nervousness, that smile kept him standing. Standing in the lights as the guys started the intro, he closed his eyes briefly. "Just breathe," he told himself, and stepped out into the spotlight. His voice felt open and clear as he began: _The power lines went out and I am all alone, but I don't really care at all, not answering my phone_. Then Blaine was there and nobody else existed. After the last note died away and the applause began, the spell was broken. Kurt felt a little outside of himself during "Raise your Glass" and he struggled to keep up with the dancing because he so enjoyed watching Blaine let loose during the performance. Too soon, though, it was over. Mercedes and Rachel gathered him in hugs backstage.

"Why didn't you tell us you had a solo? Why was Blaine looking at you like that? Why were you looking at Blaine like that? Dude, you made Puckerman cry." The McKinley whirlwind passed him by in snippets of conversations unfinished as his friends gathered for their warm-up and Blaine was there again, ushering him into the auditorium and towards their seats. They held hands while they cheered for New Directions, and held hands backstage waiting for the judges, and onstage when New Directions won. They held hands in silence on the bus back to Dalton. After Blaine helped him bury Pavarotti, they held hands on the walk back to Kurt's room. Through all of it, he carried a lump in his throat that he recognized as a jumble of emotions he couldn't quite name. Only later, in the darkened silence of his dorm room, did Kurt grieve. He cried silent tears for Pavarotti, for the loss of his chance to go to Nationals, for friends who had always just accepted him and a boyfriend (a boyfriend!) who chose him. He cried for the little boy he had been and the man he knew he was becoming. He cried from the brilliant relief that came with having someone who cared for him, who wasn't afraid to touch him and sing with him and _look_ at him and really see him for who he was.

In the morning, he awoke renewed. And he knew what he had to do.


	2. Chapter 2

Sunday morning, Kurt slept late. Sunday Brunch was a Dalton Upper School tradition, buffet tables set up in the dining hall for Belgian Waffle bar or omelets in addition to the regular assortment of bagels, fruit, and cereal. Most weeks, Kurt was up early and was already perfectly dressed and halfway through his pre-calc homework before brunch time. But this week, not so much. He was actually so tired and emotionally drained that he stumbled downstairs bleary-eyed in the navy sweatpants and grey t-shirt that only Blaine and his roommate had seen him in. He didn't care. He was halfway through the buffet line with a plate of waffles and strawberries when he felt rather than saw Blaine sneak in behind him.

"Hey". Blaine's voice was gravelly with sleep in his ear.

"Hey." Kurt whispered his reply. He didn't trust his voice yet. When he turned to look at Blaine, he saw first sleep-rumpled curls and horn-rimmed glasses framing eyes too squinty to manage contact lenses. Then a frayed at the collar, faded cranberry t-shirt and charcoal sweatpants. In fact, a glance around the dining hall made it clear that all of the Warblers were having a rough morning. Kurt didn't feel so bad.

When he got through the line, he set his plate at a more private corner table away from the rest of the Warblers and went to fill a mug with coffee. Blaine joined him and the two ate in silence until, halfway through his waffles, Kurt's brain-fog cleared. He decided that coming right out with it would make it better.

"I'm going to go back to McKinley."

Blaine almost choked on his sausage patty and looked at Kurt with panic in his eyes.

"No, no, not right away. For senior year. I'll finish out spring term, and work with you at the day camp like we had planned." He and Blaine had been offered Junior Counselor jobs at the day camp Dalton ran with Crawford Country Day, a reward for good grades and community involvement. It meant staying at Dalton over the summer, but it also meant a decent chunk of money for Kurt's college fund.

"I just… after yesterday… it was a long day, and kind of emotional, and I realized that I'm not the same scared kid who came here in the fall."

Blaine looked at him with such affection and…. something else. Pride? Yes. Pride. Blaine's hand snaked between their coffee mugs and the salt and pepper shakers to cover his.

"You're right. You're not the same kid who came here in October. Anyone who knows you can see that. I see it. It kind of shines out of you."

"Thank you."

"What makes you want to go back to McKinley? I mean, Karofsky is still going to be there."

"True. It's hard. You're here. I have fun with the Warblers. I like my classes and the teachers. But I miss my dad and my family. I miss New Directions. And the most real part of all of this is that I can't run and hide my entire life. Being safe is important, but I'm going to face bullies all the time even after high school. I need to learn how to exist with other people. I need to keep growing. I can grow with you here. I can grow academically here. But I can't grow in the world here because Dalton isn't the world. And," he offered a faint smile, "I think I'm stronger now than I was then."

There was that look of pride again in Blaine's eyes. "You are that. I'll support you in whatever you want to do. You don't have to worry about losing me when you go back to Lima. Okay?"

Kurt felt unexpectedly teary-eyed at Blaine's unwavering support. He nodded, and then turned away for a brief minute to compose himself. When he turned back, Blaine's face had gone soft, and he was awkwardly rubbing at his own eyes beneath his glasses. Now it was his turn to reassure Blaine.

"You're not going to lose me either. I promise."

* * *

><p>Blaine couldn't help feeling that once Kurt was free of the little Dalton bubble, he would indeed be kicked to the curb. He couldn't express that, though. Not right then. Instead, he let his fears eat away at him. He pulled further and further into himself, busied himself with schoolwork and spending hours upon hours just being with Kurt. He had read a fantasy series as a young teen about magical horse-type creatures that bonded with humans, and part of the process to build that bond was spending crazy amounts of time together; he kind of felt like that all the time, like the world was better the closer he was to Kurt. Which is how they ended up in one of their rooms, depending on whose roommate was out at the library or a study group or team practice. They would do homework, watch DVDs on one of their laptops. As the weather got warmer, they would sometimes take a blanket and relax under what they both thought of as Pavarotti's tree. They didn't actually do anything much beyond kissing; they were both kind of shy and nervous around each other still. But there were times he felt near to drunk on the sensation of Kurt's body against his, the lightness of Kurt's breath on his neck, and the subtle clean scent of his moisturizer. It was all he could do, some nights, to let Kurt leave him. He hated how that made him feel, like he was insecure and needy.<p>

The week before exams, he and Kurt (and most of the Upper School) were taking advantage of an unusually warm May afternoon by "studying" on the Quad, with music courtesy of Kurt's portable iPod dock. Blaine was trying in vain to focus on his History response questions, but kept being distracted by Kurt's hand as it toyed with the hem of his t-shirt.

"You really don't want me to finish this, do you?" he asked.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I'm not doing it on purpose. I like…" he blushed light pink. "I, um, I like touching you. I don't even think it's intentional."

Blaine tapped his pen on Kurt's kind of dog-eared copy of Crime and Punishment. "Finish your reading so you can write your response. If we get all our work done, we can watch a movie later. I got 'Trick' from NetFlix today."

"Tori Spelling is such a train wreck in that. It's _fabulous_." Kurt's face lit up at the thought.

"And a reward for you finally finishing that." Blaine gestured to the book again.

"You should be glad you're not in lit with me. Mr. Jackson loves him some dark Russian novels. I emphatically don't love dark Russian novels. I've seriously been carrying this around for two weeks and I haven't broken 100 pages yet."

"It's not so bad. Is it?"

"Have you even read it? It's Dostoevsky. By its very nature, the bane of high school students everywhere. It's almost as bad as The Grapes of Wrath."

"Can't say I've had the pleasure."

"How is it possible that you've gotten to the 11th grade, at Dalton of all places, and you haven't read some of the most slog-worthy novels in all of American secondary education?"

"Lucky, I guess." Blaine made a show every spring of registering for some of the niche-specific lit courses Dalton offered. His friends thought he was very multicultural, and he played it off as broadening his horizons. In actuality, he struggled with all the reading. He had learned early on that he stood a better chance making it through contemporary novels, so he had avoided the more tome-heavy classes that were standard high school English fare. He tried to change the subject.

"What will you take at McKinley next year? You've out-paced them now, even just being here for part of the year."

Kurt rolled over onto his back and ticked his classes off on his fingers. "AP Lit, Calc, AP US History, AP French, Physics, PE, and Glee."

"And your 8th class?"

"Oh! I got to choose early track, so I'll be done after Glee. I haven't decided yet if I'm going to get a job or do some volunteering or something. I was thinking maybe about seeing if some of the other Glee kids wanted to work with me at the rec center setting up a kid's chorus."

"Cool."

"Yeah." They lay in silence for a few minutes. "Blaine?" Kurt's voice arced up into a question,

"Yeah?"

"Why haven't you taken the same English classes as the rest of us?"

"You caught that, did you?"

"It was kind of like the elephant on the blanket. You weren't exactly subtle in your attempts to change the subject."

"I just don't do as well in lit. The reading is a problem. Not so much understanding it, but being able to get through it and remember the plot points through from beginning to end. It's a little easier with modern stuff. So that's what I do."

"And double up in math and science to make up for it?"

"Kind of. Yes. Exactly."

Silence.

"Blaine?"

"Yes, Kurt?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For letting your walls down around me."

"You're the only one who ever really sees me."

* * *

><p>Kurt's dad let him take his car back to Dalton for the summer. "So we don't have to come and pick you up if you want to come home on the weekends," he said, as they worked together giving the vehicle a once-over at the garage the week Kurt got home. "But be careful. No drinking and driving. And, um. If you and that boy-"<p>

"Blaine, Dad."

"Blaine. If you and Blaine, you know, go out. Be careful."

"Are you trying to have another sex talk with me?"

"I just want you to take care of yourself, Kurt. I know there aren't a lot of safe places for you and Blaine to be together. If you decide to. In the car. There's protection in the glove box."

"Oh my God, Dad!" Kurt felt the blush rolling up his face. "For your information, all we've done is kiss. I remember what you told me. And neither of us has had a boyfriend before, so we're just moving really slowly."

"Well okay."

When Kurt related the story to Blaine later that summer, after a frantic make-out session, Blaine laughed so hard he cried. "Your dad! Condoms! Glove box!"

"Thank you, Blaine. I remember it all too well. Aside from the very first sex talk it was, perhaps, the most awkward exchange I've had with my dad."

"At least you know he cares?" Blaine had said, wiping tears from his eyes. That set Kurt off, even though he wasn't quite sure why he was laughing. When he finally composed himself, he got quiet. "We haven't really talked about it, you know" he said, looking up into Blaine's eyes.

"Talked about?"

"Sex. About whether we want to, and all that."

"Oh, I want." Blaine trailed his hand down Kurt's thigh.

"I know you do. What I mean is, I know your body does. So does mine. But what about our hearts? Our heads? When my dad and I had The Talk, he told me not to throw myself around like I didn't matter, because I do matter. I know I'm a hopeless romantic, but I really do want it to be special."

"It will be." Blaine covered his mouth with a gentle kiss. God, he loved kissing Blaine. He loved the feel of Blaine's hands in his hair, the warmth of his hands under Blaine's shirt, the way they fit together when they were stretched out on one of their beds or out under Pavarotti's tree in the warm evenings after the campers were gone for the day. Kurt was looking at this summer like a gift of uninterrupted, languorous hours together. There were times when he just wanted to drink Blaine in, to memorize him with touch. To store all of the sensation and emotion away for the coming months when they would only get to be together on weekends. God, he was really going to miss this. He sighed into Blaine's neck and felt Blaine shiver against him. "I love you, Blaine."

"I love you, Kurt."

* * *

><p>Blaine wanted everything to be special. He had tickets to the last of the summer outdoor concerts in Columbus, a blanket and fixings for a picnic dinner in the trunk of his car, and a head full of things he wanted to say. Back in the spring, when he kissed Kurt for the first time in the common room, he hadn't had any idea. All he knew then was that he had feelings for Kurt. What he didn't come to realize until recently was how entwined his feelings for Kurt were with his feelings about himself. For the first time in his life, he had someone who saw everything about him. He didn't have to worry about letting his walls down or dropping his perfect Blaine Anderson persona around Kurt because Kurt saw beyond all of it without even trying. Being with Kurt gave him confidence, like he was good for someone and someone else was good for him. Kurt made him laugh, and feel strong and vulnerable all at once. God, he loved him. Just the thought of it took his breath away.<p>

Blaine was waiting outside the dorm leaning against his car when Kurt came down after his shower. It was their last free night before the camp musical went up, and their last free night before Kurt had to go back to Lima. He had told Kurt to dress casual, expecting him to show up in one of his fancier outfits. He did a double-take at the boy before him, in a snug black t-shirt and slim black shorts. And flip-flops on his perfectly pedicured feet, hair still damp from his shower and artfully messed with the aid of a little product.

"You like?" Kurt raised an eyebrow in question as he sidled up to the car.

Blaine yanked his voice from where it had fallen into the pit of his stomach. "Hot. You look hot." He pulled Kurt into him for a fierce kiss. "I've never seen you like this, all casual, I'm so sexy because I don't know I'm sexy."

"I'm not sexy. I thought we'd already established that I'm about as sexy as-"

"A baby penguin, I know. This?" he ran his eyes up and down Kurt's body. "This is smokin'. C'mon." He gestured to the car with his head. "We're going to be late if we linger."

The concert was the Columbus Gay Men's Chorus, which meant that neither of them had to be self-conscious about holding hands or kissing in public. It was a fun night; both of them liked people-watching, and the music was good. Kurt seemed relaxed, which in turn made Blaine feel relaxed. It made him less nervous about his plans for the rest of the evening, though when the concert was over and everyone started packing up blankets and coolers, his hands began to tremble a little. He really hadn't been this nervous since the first time they had kissed.

"Are you okay?" Kurt nodded at his hands.

Blaine swallowed, tried to calm himself. "I'm just a little nervous. I have . . . plans . . . for when we get back to Westerville."

"Plans?"

"Yeah."

"Do I get any elaboration?"

"You know. Um. _Plans._"

"No, Blaine, I don't know. Wait."

Blaine reached into his pocket and pulled out a condom, which he discreetly handed to Kurt.

"Oh." Kurt turned pink. "Plans. I see."

The car ride back to Westerville was pretty silent. When Blaine grasped Kurt's hand to pull him down the hall to his room, both of their palms were slightly damp. As soon as Blaine closed the door to his room, Kurt was on him, kissing with teeth and tongue and hands everywhere. In the cool half-dark of the room, the only sound was the whisper of shirts and shorts being shed and the hush and hitch of breath as touches moved from gentle to demanding.

"Are you sure?" Blaine asked, what felt like hours later but was surely only minutes.

"I'm giving you this heart to break."

Blaine had never felt so exposed as he did afterwards, lying curled with Kurt against his bare chest, soft tears drying on both of their cheeks. "No walls," Kurt whispered into his neck.

"No walls. Never with you."

* * *

><p>Kurt's last morning at Dalton, he ate breakfast with Blaine, and then they worked together to pack his car. He'd only taken his winter clothes home over the brief break between school and camp, so he had an entire year's worth of books and mementos in addition to his wardrobe. They worked for the better part of the morning, until the last thing left was Pavarotti's empty cage. Blaine set it on the passenger seat while Kurt readied for the drive. They were both trying to be stoic. After so much time together, it felt to Kurt like they were being torn apart. He was going back to Lima, then on a brief vacation (read: camping) with his dad, Carol, and Finn. Blaine was going to San Diego with his own family for two weeks, and then school would start and life would get crazy.<p>

They dawdled around their goodbyes for as long as they could, until Kurt said "I promised my dad I'd be home by dinner." Blaine pulled him into a long hug, and then kissed him with both strong hands along his jaw.

"I'm trying to be brave," Blaine said into his hair. When he looked at Kurt, his face was tight.

"No walls, Blaine."

"No walls." And then Blaine was in his arms, tears free-flowing and his soul bared open.

"We're going to be fine," Kurt told him, and kissed him again. Climbed into his car, and drove away.

And cried silent tears the whole way to Lima.


	3. Interlude: Snapshots

1. 1998- 4 years old

Mommy and Daddy were mad. They were always mad. Sometimes at night, Noah would bury his head under his pillows so he didn't have to listen to them yelling. If that didn't work, he'd pull his dinosaur quilt off his bed and go lay in the corner next to his night light. The bright made him feel better, and if he got really scared he would put his hand next to the light so it would feel all warm. The mornings after The Yelling, he would be extra quiet and get his own cereal and eat it without milk because he couldn't reach to get it out of the fridge himself. He would get dressed and play in his room, or out in the yard. By late morning, Daddy would be gone to wherever and Mommy would come and get him for lunch.

But last night there was yelling, and there was also crying, and he thought he heard something breaking. Noah played alone in his room all morning, and then his tummy started to feel rumbly, but nobody came to tell him it was lunchtime. He was hungry and bored and lonely, so he gathered up his best toy cars and his nightlight (even though Mommy was always telling him "Noah, please _don't _touch that!" when he got too close to a plug) and put them in the GI Joe lunchbox he used on the days he had to go to day care. He took it to the kitchen and piled in a juice box and two fruit roll ups and a granola bar. And then he let himself out into the backyard.

He ate his snacks and drank his juice, and was rolling his cars into the muddy birdbath when Mommy cane running out the back door. "I've been looking all over for you! What are you doing out here?"

"Running away."

"Running away? Why?"

"Because. Where were you, Mommy?"

"Mommy wasn't feeling well. I was sleeping."

"Oh."

"Don't ever run away again, Noah."

"Don't leave me alone again, Mommy."

2. 2000- 6 years old

The stupid baby cried all the time. When his mom was pregnant, there hadn't been any yelling. When the baby first came home, there also hadn't been any yelling. But now, the baby was a little older, and when she cried at night his dad would yell. He yelled about how his mom couldn't keep the baby quiet so he could get some sleep, about how the house was messy, about how his mom was stupid and lazy because she couldn't manage to keep the house **and** take care of Noah and the baby and cook dinner on time. When Noah had gotten in trouble at school last week for fighting with Finn, his dad even yelled that "no kid of his was going to turn into a punk." Noah kind of hated his dad a little bit, for yelling at his mom like that, and for blaming the baby. She was kind of funny looking, and she did cry a lot, but he was a big brother now and he had to protect her.

It was hard to ignore the yelling now that he was older. It made him sad, which made him mad, which got him in trouble in school. Which made his dad yell some more. That was the only time his dad even paid attention to him, though. Noah didn't mean to be bad, and he didn't want to be in trouble. But being yelled at was better than being invisible.

3. 2004- 10 years old

"You're the man of the house now, Noah. Take care of your mom and sister." Noah was sure he had imagined it, that he had only been dreaming. That he hadn't smelled the beer on his dad's breath, or felt the weight of his dad's hand on his back as he said goodbye. But he knew for sure when he woke up in the morning and saw his dad's best guitar on a stand in the corner of his room with his baseball stuff. When he wandered downstairs, his mom was crying at the sink while she poured milk for Lizzie's breakfast. There was a note on the counter. He went up and snaked his skinny arms around his mom's waist. "Dad's gone," he said, "but don't worry, I'll take care of you and Lizzie now."

His mom wrapped him up in a bear hug. "It's okay, kiddo. We'll all be fine. He's been gone for years. The only thing different now is that he won't be living here." Noah really hated his dad. He wasn't sure why he was sad. He worked hard to be a man, even as he cried little-boy tears into his mom's fuzzy blue bathrobe.

4. 2007- 13 years old

Finn was an idiot. The whole point of being cool was being able to manage the other kids. What was the point of being cool if you couldn't wield a little power? He pointed to that Hummel kid, the one who had gone to West Lima Elementary before joining with the kids from East Lima in middle school. He was in the same honors track as Puck was, which Puck would deny if anybody asked. He only pretended to be stupid. But that was kind of beside the point. Hummel was most definitely gay, which was a little weird but not necessarily a bad thing (at least not in Puck's mind). And he was a loser, because he did girly things like wear makeup and sing in the chorus. Puck decided that he needed to be put in his place. "That's the kid," he told Finn. "Dumpster or Slushie?"

"Dude, I dunno. I really don't think either one is a good idea."

"Power, Finn. We need to be badasses, so we can be on top when we go to high school. Dumpster or Slushie?"

"Dumpster, I guess."

The kid was kind of gracious about it. He didn't fight like some of the geeks Puck had tossed in recent weeks. Instead, he kind of looked down his nose at Puck, like he was better than the rest of them. When Puck looked down into the dumpster, Hummel's eyes caught the sunlight and suddenly looked so clear and blue. Puck felt like Hummel was looking right through him, to the places he never let anyone see. He couldn't afford for that to happen. He had a reputation to maintain, and he wasn't going to let anyone (especially not a loser who sang in the chorus) damage it.

5. 2010- 16 years old

Everyone was rallying around Quinn, which in all honesty made Puck a little nauseous. Beth had been his kid, too, and just because he was a guy, and a badass to boot, didn't mean that he didn't hurt. He felt like a failure because he'd wanted to keep the baby and he hadn't been able to convince Quinn that he could be a good father. He supposed that it was kind of his own fault, because he never let anyone get really close to him. His badass-ness tended to turn people away. Even now, when his insides felt so empty it was hard to get out of bed in the morning, he managed to do it and put on his Puckasaurus persona. Only at night, only at that coffee shop he had found on the road to Dayton, could he kind of relax. It had started with song lyrics scribbled on napkins as he drank cup after cup of black coffee, continued with a mild flirtation with the barista, and ended with an invitation from the night manager for him to come in and sing with his guitar. He had five new songs. Fifteen minutes of heartbreak and loneliness, and no safe place to put it all out there. Except maybe here, where nobody knew him.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, until he was halfway through his songs and spied a familiar pair of sea-blue eyes looking back at him from a corner table. His hands shook against the neck of his guitar, and he had to look away to be able to finish. The applause at the end was mild, and the ache in his chest was a little bit less. He was putting his guitar in its case when he felt the gentle pressure of Kurt's hand on his shoulder. "Your songs were beautiful, Puck."

"Whatev."

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Shut me out. I know you think we have nothing in common, but we do. We know what it's like to lose someone we love. We know what it's like to be thought of as less than. We know what it's like to put on a mask every morning because letting people see us hurt would kill us."

"I don't . . ."

"Yes, you do. We're both masters at it. I know everyone thinks you're the screw-up in all of this, and that they're all hand-holding Quinn. But you might need some hand-holding too. I won't push, but you can always call me if you need anything. To talk or to watch a stupid movie, or whatever."

"Why are you being nice to me? I used to kick your ass every day."

"I know. We just show our hurt in different ways. I can't really hold that against you. I know it's not personal."

"How do you know . . .?"

"That first time you tossed me in a dumpster, back in middle school. I looked up into the sun, and there you were."

"You saw me."

"Yes. I saw you."

Kurt turned away then, began moving towards the door. He looked back once, before he grasped for the handle. "I'll always see you, Noah."

6. 2013- 18 years old

If Puck had to stay in Lima one more freaking day, he was going to go crazy. Until his friends (even Finn and Brittany) all went off to college and he was left alone, standing in the registration line at Lima Community College, he hadn't been bothered by his lack of a Big Plan. So he started checking in with Mr. Schue, talking about the things he'd been afraid to admit to anyone last year: that he didn't want to turn into his dad by default, angry at the world and his family, running off in the middle of the night because he was too much of a coward to leave Lima in the clear light of day; that he didn't want to be a Lima Loser, still cleaning pools in five years with no future at all; that he was afraid he'd become stupid merely by pretending to be stupid. Mr. Schue assured him that the last was impossible. He had been smart once, and maybe he just needed to work a little harder and he'd be smart again. As far as the other things, Mr. Schue thought that maybe Puck needed to expand his horizons a little bit.

"Do you want to go to college?" He'd asked Puck one August night when they met for burgers.

"Not really. I mean, I don't see myself as the academic type. I'd rather learn a skill, something I can use to make a decent living. Not a trade, an actual skill. Something I can feel useful doing, and not be stupid doing it."

"What was your dream when you were a little kid? What did you want to be more than anything?"

"One time, my mom was watching some show about paramedics, and I thought that looked really cool. Getting to help people, and drive fast, all that."

"Then you should check it out. There's probably a class you can take at LCC."

"Yeah. I guess." He pretended to be apprehensive, but if he was being honest with himself, his heart gave a little flutter when he thought about it. The next day, he went to the registrar and signed up for the fall EMT Basic class.

He got his license in December, and spent Christmas with his family and hanging out with Finn at the Hudson-Hummel house. Finn was loving Ohio State. Apparently, Kurt was loving his school in Boston, something-Eastern. Puck had hoped he'd get to at least see Kurt over the break. They had never been great friends, mostly because Puck had been too scared of what Kurt saw in him, but he felt like he'd grown a lot since graduation. He wasn't so afraid of himself anymore, which made it easier to let go of the scared boy he had been for so long. Too long. In any case, he wanted to see Kurt. To see if the boy he remembered was still kind and strong and heart-breakingly aware. To find out if the feelings for Kurt that he kept close to his chest were as real as they seemed sometimes. But they kept missing each other. Puck figured he'd have to wait until summer break.

Until the morning in late January when he woke up feeling like he was suffocating. The only two thoughts in his mind were _I have to get out of here_ and _I have to see Kurt_. He stuffed his backpack with a few essentials, made sure he had phone numbers for all his East Coast college friends (Kurt in Boston, Rachel in New York City, Santana in Philly, and Tina in DC), and drove to the airport in Columbus. He had $1,000 in his bank account, which was enough for a one-way ticket on a two-stop flight to Boston and more travel money once he figured out what he was going to do.

His hands were shaking as he dialed Kurt's cell. After some small talk, a demand for breakfast, and some convoluted instructions about how to find him, Puck clicked off the call and headed for the subway, headed for Kurt. Headed for what he hoped was going to be home.


	4. Chapter 3

Northeastern University, Winter 2013

Kurt thought that he knew from winter. Ohioans were nothing if not hardy folk, but this winter was going to kill him well before it made him stronger. It had started during exam week with freezing rain that turned to ice that became 8 inches of snow, which made walking treacherous. He'd had to give in and wear his winter boots. Not his fake-winter fashion boots, but his real LL Bean snow boots. The epic weather continued with another foot of snow three days before Christmas that left him camped out for 14 hours at Logan Airport waiting for a runway to be cleared so his flight to Columbus could take off. Two days after New Year's, Kurt returned to Boston for January term; it was supposed to be a more relaxed time of hanging out with friends and picking up extra hours at his job in the Admissions office. Instead, he spent three weeks in his pajamas, eating Ramen or cereal and watching 7 seasons of The West Wing. He got to work only when campus offices were open as Nor'easter after Nor'easter swept up the Atlantic coast and blanketed Boston with close to five feet of snow in 14 days. On the last Thursday of the term, though, the sky was clear and temperatures ventured above Arctic. Kurt couldn't wait to get to work, and to the grocery store. He was expecting his roommate back sometime before the weekend, since classes began again on Monday, so when his cell rang early he answered without looking at the caller id.

"Ben? I hope you come back with a tan. It's been miserable here, and I can vacation vicariously."

"Dude. Who's Ben?"

"Puckerman?"

"Yeah."

"Um. Ben is my roommate. Why are you calling me? Where are you?"

Kurt hadn't really seen Puck since August. They had missed each other over Christmas; Puck had been over hanging with Finn a couple of times, but Kurt had having Epic Coffee with Blaine or out with Quinn and Mercedes. They had never been great friends, but they had reached a certain level of understanding (and grudging almost-friendship) in the time since the Great Coffeehouse Confrontation of 2010.

"I'm in Boston. I thought maybe you'd be up for breakfast. Or something."

Kurt tried to shake sleep-fog out of his brain. He definitely wasn't following.

"Wait. What are you doing here again?"

"Just taking some time to visit with my East Coast peeps." Kurt could almost hear the white lie in Puck's voice, but he figured he'd call him on it later. There were times when he wondered what was going on behind Puck's tough exterior; he was pretty sure it was not a little uncomplicated.

"Yeah. So, breakfast. You're at the airport still?"

"Yeah."

"OK, listen. And pay attention. Take the Silver Line from the airport to South Station. When you get to South Station, you're going to want the Red Line inbound. Get off at Downtown Crossing and transfer to the Orange Line heading to Forest Hills. Get off at Ruggles, and I'll meet you at the top of the escalator."

"Dude. No way. I won't remember all of that."

Kurt rolled his eyes in frustration. "Just get on the Silver Line and I'll text you the rest. It should take you about 40 minutes." Just enough time to shower and dress and cross campus to the T stop, he thought. "Travel safe, and I'll see you there."

"'K. Bye."

"Bye."

He was out the door thirty minutes after he hung up with Puck. He was oddly excited to see him. He'd lacked for company since coming back to school; his dorm was pretty quiet, and the weather had been so nasty that most people just stayed in their rooms. The snow had also prevented Blaine from getting down to Boston for the long weekend they had planned over break; Bowdoin had been snowed under worse than Northeastern, though apparently that had worked out well for Blaine. He'd found an unexpected friends-with-benefits situation with a boy he met at the pool. "A football player, if you can believe that!" he'd told Kurt when he'd called to cancel the visit. "I don't think I'm ready for another boyfriend yet. You kind of spoiled me, in a good way."

Kurt kind of felt bad about that. In the short term, his romance with Blaine had gone well, but it just couldn't stand up to the distance and the schedule conflicts. They had cut the cord over Christmas break last year, and quickly and easily reverted back to being best friends. Kurt had no doubt that if circumstances were just right, they could also slip into friends-with-benefits, but for now he was enjoying Blaine's friendship and his own single status.

Kurt reflected as he walked to the T stop on how much he loved Boston. He had always expected that he'd end up in New York, which was why he was so stunned to realize, 15 minutes into his first visit, that New York City would do nothing but chew him up and spit him out. Confidence was one thing. He would have needed to be a masochist to succeed there. At the beginning of senior year, Mr. Schue met with each of them to help plan a college strategy. That was the first time he confided his secret dream, that he wanted to be a counselor or a teacher, to help kids like himself. "I never expected to hear that from you, Kurt," Mr. Schue had said with genuine surprise, "but I think you'll be remarkable at it." Over a handful of meetings, he articulated more of what he wanted from a college: a medium-sized university with a legacy of community involvement. He liked the specs on Northeastern, especially that it was a 5-year program with plenty of opportunities to complete field-specific internships. When he visited the campus, he felt instantly at home in Boston. It was the right sized city for him, a place where he could stand out sometimes and be invisible at others. With so many colleges in such a small area, the romantic and friendship possibilities alone were astounding.

He had to admit, his first semester had been a success. He got along well with his roommate, a not-too-serious Bio major from Pittsburgh who sang with one of the a cappella groups. Kurt had toyed with trying out himself, but ended up casting his lot with the Boston Gay Men's Choir, and he had been pleased to be accepted. He had gotten solid A-/B+ in his fall classes, an odd mix of intro classes for his major and a couple of more advanced gen ed's he'd been able to place into by virtue of scoring 5's on all three of his AP exams last spring. He was gradually carving a place for himself in this city where nobody knew anything about him. He could be a totally new Kurt here. It was, oddly, refreshing.

* * *

><p>Puck stood at the top of the steps at the subway entrance looking around for Hummel. He was looking for the Kurt he knew, skinny pants and fancy shirts, maybe a crazy hat. He wasn't expecting the Kurt he finally found, leaning idly against a lamp post with his nose in a thick paperback book. This Kurt was wearing crisply pressed khaki pants and a blue button-down shirt under an open black pea coat. Black Docs, cranberry scarf. No hat to mess up perfectly styled brown hair. Messenger bag slung across his chest. This Kurt moved with a confident grace that Puck wasn't used to seeing. He had filled out since summer. He would never be a big guy, but it looked like he was both eating well and maybe working the weights a little bit. He looked, Puck thought in the instant before he caught Kurt's eye, pretty hot.<p>

"Puck!" Kurt tucked a finger into his book and waved. Puck crossed the sidewalk, slick with melted snow and ice, and pulled him into a back-thumping hug. "Dude, you look great."

"You too," Kurt replied. "I like . . ." he gestured towards his head, which caused Puck to run a sheepish palm over his short curls.

"Yeah. I dunno. When I got to LCC, it just seemed a little too high school, y'know? I'm not sure this-" he gestured again "is really me either, but it's a start."

Kurt looked at him with an odd mix of interest and surprise. It unnerved him a little bit.

"Let's go eat," he said. "There's a great place not far from here. We can walk, if you're okay carrying your stuff."

"This is all I have." Puck motioned to his backpack with the hand holding his guitar case.

"If you don't want to carry it, we can drop it in my room."

"No, no. It's okay."

"Great. This way."

Kurt led him through a warren of mid-rise red brick buildings, across an open quad, and through a set of wrought iron gates. They stopped at a crosswalk while they waited for the light to change, and they crossed over and headed down what looked like an alley. When they came out the other side, they were in front of a diner. "Best food here," Kurt told him, opening the door to the scent of dark coffee and sugar and fried fat. "They serve everything on the menu 24 hours a day."

"Like-"

"The Golden Egg, exactly!"

The Egg had become a kind of Glee hangout their senior year. After their crash-and-burn at Nationals as juniors, they had recommitted to three evening rehearsals a week in addition to their regular class period. Most nights when they were done, the guys at least were hungry so they'd all go over to the Egg for a late-night snack before heading home to finish off their homework. Nobody cared that the whole club would take up three long tables, or that they would order tons of food and eat off each other's plates. It was a place where they could all just be themselves. Puck thought that it was there, at the diner, when he began to slowly fall in love with Kurt. Watching him engage _with_ the group rather than remaining a little outside the way he had been before Dalton. Watching him relax enough to actually eat. Seeing him smile, _really_ smile, all open and free and _happy_. Puck wasn't sure he'd ever seen Kurt truly happy before last year, and here he was again with happy written all over his face.

"You like it here?" he asked Kurt as they settled into a booth and opened skinny plastic-coated menus.

"Yes. It's a good place for me. The people are good. I love my classes."

The waitress came barreling over with a coffee pot and two chunky ceramic mugs. "Coffee?" she asked.

Kurt nodded, but Puck asked "what kind of pop do you have?"

The waitress looked confused, until Kurt spoke up. "He'll have a Coke, extra ice."

When she walked away, Kurt leaned in and whispered "its soda here. I practically got laughed out of the cafeteria line my first week when I asked my roommate where the pop machine was. And don't even get me started on what they call sandwiches."

Puck was still a little stunned that Kurt knew his drink of choice. "What's good here?"

"Everything. If you want breakfast, they have killer waffles and pancakes. I like to come here when I'm craving a burger. And they have good fries, too."

"What are you getting?"

"A burger and fries."

Puck thought a moment. "If I got waffles, do you want to share? Like old times?"

Kurt smiled. "I'd like that."

When the waitress returned with Puck's glass, brimming with ice just the way he liked it, they put in their order and tried to retrieve the delicate thread of conversation the waitress had interrupted.

"Finn said you got your EMT certification? I never knew you were interested in doing that."

"I kind of always thought it would be a cool job. It turns out I like doing it, and I'm pretty good at it too."

"It's important to like what you do."

"And you like it? What you're studying?"

"Mmmm hmmm. Child and Adolescent Psychology. I think I'm going to be really good at it. I'll have to do some practicum hours this semester for one of my classes. That'll give me a better idea. I really just…" Kurt's voice faded, and it looked to Puck like he was struggling for words.

"You want to help other kids, so they don't have to go through what you did."

"That's surprisingly astute of you, Puckerman."

"I only pretend to be dumb."

"I know. I remember."

"Remember what?"

"We were in the same track in middle school. You always were at the top in math and science. What happened to that boy?"

Puck looked away, out the window at the traffic going by. His throat tightened. Kurt was just as perceptive as always. "That boy… was scared. And lonely." He turned back and looked Kurt straight in his eyes. "But I think you already know that. And what that feels like."

Kurt looked surprised at both the honesty and the mild bite to Puck's words. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

They were interrupted again by the waitress, who set their plates on the table and brought them a basket with condiments for Kurt's burger and a plastic jug of warm syrup. Kurt cut his burger in half, and Puck gestured to his waffle. "Syrup?" At Kurt's slight nod, he liberally syruped his plate and pushed it into the middle to make it easier to share. They ate in silence, suddenly awkward and more than a little uncomfortable with each other. When their plates were empty, and Kurt had finished a second coffee pale and sweet, they settled the bill and emerged, wordlessly, onto the sun-brightened street.

"I don't have to be at work for another couple of hours. Would you like a tour?"

"Yeah. But can I ditch my stuff first?"

"Yeah." Kurt led the way to his dorm, yet another brick half-tower in the opposite direction of the subway. Kurt slid his keycard into the outside door with practiced precision, and led the way through an institutional lobby and up two flights of dimly lit stairs. "My roommate isn't back yet, but he's pretty cool. I don't know what your plans are . . ."

"If it's okay, I was hoping to chill here a couple of days before heading down to New York to see Rachel."

"Yeah, that's fine."

They stopped at the fourth door from the stairs, in front of a wildly decorated cork board. At quick glance, Puck could see a group shot of New Directions at Nationals in New York (the year they failed miserably), and another one of them in competition clothes surrounding their 1st place trophy last spring in D.C. There was a family picture taken at the Hudson-Hummel wedding, one of Blaine and Kurt in their Dalton uniforms, and two pictures of Kurt in his cap and gown at graduation: one with his dad and one with all of New Directions. The other half of the board was an eclectic mix of cartoons and a picture of a tall blond boy in a blue cap and gown holding a really little girl, apparently his toddler sister, in his arms. Puck thought that anyone who paid attention to the door display would learn a lot about what Kurt considered important: his friends, his family, and his singing.

Kurt let them into the room, which had drab whitish-gray walls and a really unfortunate green linoleum floor that was partially covered with a square of pale blue carpet. It was pretty much like Finn's room at Ohio State, except that Finn shared his closet-sized room with three other guys. Kurt's room was a little bigger, a lot cleaner, and only held two people. Puck could tell right away that the bed by the window was Kurt's. It was covered with a soft-looking down comforter and a pile of pillows. Kurt's iPod was docked into a set of speakers, and there was both a laptop and a stack of textbooks on the desk that was arranged to at least visually separate Kurt's side of the room from his roommate's. Kurt gestured to the empty space between his desk and bed. "You can drop your stuff here, if you want. Bathroom is up the hall; turn right at the "T" and it's the double doors on your right. I'll be right back." He shed his bag, coat, and scarf before he headed out of the room. Puck dropped his own coat over Kurt's where he had left it on the bed, and set down his backpack and guitar. He took in Kurt's Broadway show posters, his bookshelves that were overstuffed with notebooks, textbooks, and different genres of paperbacks. There was a second cork board with more of Kurt's family pictures, and what looked like a recent addition tacked on near the bottom. Kurt was wearing what appeared to be his New Directions black competition shirt and black pants with a pale purple tie. He was surrounded by 5 other men of a variety of ages also in black with different colored ties. A paper program was stuck underneath the picture, and Puck flipped it out to read it. "Boston Gay Men's Chorus Broadway Revue 2012". So Kurt hadn't stopped singing. That was good.

"I was lucky to get in," Kurt's voice came from behind him. "Competition is pretty stiff. And I'm kind of the baby of the group."

"Who are these guys?"

"Some of my 'fairy godfathers', as it were. They've made being a baby gay in a new city a little easier. They take me out dancing, or to karaoke, and give me boy advice."

"And are there?"

"Are there what?"

"Boys?"

* * *

><p>Ah ha. Kurt had known that there was some kind of ulterior motive to Puck's visit. He hadn't been wrong, there was something going on. He was going to have to dig a little more. He moved closer to Puck, reaching around him to pull the picture off his cork board. "All of these guys were at my audition in some capacity. James is the second youngest. He's an Engineering major at MIT. Michael is an English teacher at Boston Latin, this really exclusive prep school, and his partner Tom does something financial, I'm not really clear on the details. Eric is a paralegal at the DA's office, and Ethan's a grad student at BU. They're probably my best friends in the city."<p>

"Boys, Kurt. Are there boys?"

"Why do you sound so tense?"

"I'm not."

"I didn't say you were. I said you sounded that way."

"Dammit, Hummel, stop evading me. Are? There? Boys?"

Kurt backed away from Puck. His intensity was a little too much. He took a deep breath. "No," he sighed. "There are no boys. Not since Blaine."

"Why not? You're smart, and nice. And . . ."

"And?"

It was Puck's turn to back away. Kurt watched him swallow, breathe, rub his hands on the thighs of his faded jeans and through his hair in what Kurt knew to be Puck's favorite self-soothing ritual.

"C'mon, Puckerman. You came here for a reason, and I don't buy your story for single minute. Should I call Rachel right now and see if you've even talked with her since graduation?"

"No!" Before Kurt even had time to blink, Puck had crossed the three steps between them and grabbed Kurt by the wrist. Kurt started, and began to pull away, but then Puck's mouth was on his, hungry and hot. When the immediate shock wore off, he relaxed into the kiss and pulled Puck closer to him. Puck's arms were strong at the small of his back and the back of his neck. He twisted his hand into the softness of Puck's t-shirt, let his other hand toy at the waistband of Puck's jeans. At the briefest touch of Kurt's hand along the bare skin at Puck's waist, Puck pulled away, eyes large.

"I'm sorry, dude. I didn't mean to." Puck looked suddenly scared, like he had crossed a boundary and didn't know how to go back.

"Yes, you did. And that's okay." Puck looked a little unsteady, so Kurt pulled out his desk chair and motioned for Puck to sit.

"Was that the first time you've kissed a guy?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. And you've been having feelings for guys for how long?"

"Not guys. Not plural. One guy."

Kurt paused for a minute, his kiss-addled brain struggling to kick into gear. And then the connection. Oh. _Oh_. "Me," he squeaked.

"Yeah. You. Always you."

"Since when?"

"Honestly?"

"Please."

Puck kind of turned away. "I think it started that day in 8th grade, in the dumpster."

"The sunlight." Kurt remembered that moment, how clearly he saw behind Puck's tough exterior, how much depth and feeling there was behind those brown eyes.

"Yeah. And then, you've just always kind of been able to cut through all my crap, y'know?"

"It's easy, Puck. We're kind of the same, you and I. Underneath our slightly off-putting outer selves, at least."

"Not to change the subject, but you look so different."

"Yeah, that."

"What happened?"

"Well, a couple of things. First, I have a work-study job at the Admissions office, which is why I'm a little more dressed today. But what really happened is that I started liking myself more. When I started feeling more comfortable with myself, I didn't need to hide behind my clothes anymore. Not that I don't still love me some fashion, but it's just that now, fashion. Not a costume."

"That makes sense."

"What about you? Do you still hate yourself?"

"I've never hated myself."

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not. I hate things that have happened in my life, and the way they make me feel, but I don't hate myself."

"And these feelings you have for me. Do you hate them?"

"No."

"But?"

"But nothing. They make me confused. I've never been into dudes. Just you."

The not-quite confident, slightly scared look on Puck's face made Kurt's heart hurt. The poor guy looked almost broken.

"Look," he laid his hand gently on top of Puck's where it rested on the back of the chair. "I'm not avoiding you, but I really have to get to work. I'll be off at 4. Can you occupy yourself until then?"

Puck nodded his assent. "I can't give you my keycard because I need it to clock in at work. You can stay here if you want, or you can go out. I'll check in when I'm done at work and we can meet up and get something to eat. And come back here and talk. I think we need to do that, and I also think that we both need a little space to think about all of this."

"Yeah. Would you mind if I took a nap?"

"Not at all." He shrugged into his coat and wrapped his scarf around his neck. He shouldered his messenger bag and headed out the door. When he turned back before he left the room, Puck was still sitting at his desk with his head cradled in his hands.

"Puck?"

"Yeah?" Puck's voice was thick with emotion.

"We'll figure this all out, okay?"

"Yeah."

He let himself out into the hallway, and closed the door with a gentle click behind him. What a mess.


	5. Chapter 4

When Kurt left for work, Puck was almost relieved to be left alone in the silence. He couldn't quite believe what he had done. He hadn't been rejected, not outright, but he hadn't been truly embraced either. That was nothing new. It was a response he had gotten used to over the years, but that didn't make it sting any less. He had put himself out there, however awkwardly, and the response had been less than enthusiastic.

Okay. That wasn't entirely true. He had felt Kurt lean into the kiss, felt Kurt's hands, tugging on his shirt and tentative against his skin. They had both been breathless, afterwards, and even though Kurt tried to hide it, Puck had seen the subtle shaking in his hands. So maybe his attention wasn't completely unwanted. His head was spinning, he was tired from the day, and he had a slight headache. There was a small square dorm fridge down at the end of Kurt's bed, and Puck hoped there'd be something in there to wash down a couple of ibuprofen. He found two bottles of water and a half-full 20 oz. 7-Up. He opened one of the water bottles, took the ibuprofen, and drank the rest of the water. Then he slipped out of his shoes and stretched out on Kurt's bed, closed his eyes, and fell almost instantly asleep.

* * *

><p>Even though the office wasn't busy with tours or info sessions, the phones rang all afternoon and Kurt only got a quarter of the way through the stack of mail on the desk he shared with the three other work-study students. The regular admissions deadline was just over two weeks away, and they were still receiving application supplements by the bag-full, in addition to processing response cards from early admits, whose decisions had to be in the office on Feb 15th as well. Kurt was a master multi-tasker. He answered his phone using the headset all afternoon so his hands were free for the mail. "Thank you for calling the Northeastern University Office of Undergraduate Admissions. This is Kurt. How may I direct your call?" Sometimes it was easy to pass the call along to the voicemail of one of the admissions counselors, but more often it was a student or parent calling with questions about their application, which meant that Kurt had to do some hand-holding while he worked sorting admit response cards from application pieces. He had a computer program to log the letters of recommendation, transcripts, and writing samples that arrived separately from the online applications. He could 10-key, mouse-click, and file with efficiency even while counseling "Yes, Mrs. Farrish, you or your daughter can log onto our admissions website to see the status of all your supplemental materialsNo, Mr. Jacobs, you don't need to worry. As long as your son listed us as one of the schools to receive his score report, the College Board will send us his results once the tests are processed. If he took the December test, the scores should be here in the office in the next week to ten days."

He was glad for the work, which kept his mind off of Puck, surely asleep in his bed, and that unexpected, mind-blowing kiss. Even so, he was equally pleased when 4 pm came around and he could shut down his phone and turn off his computer. He called down the hall to Maria, the admissions counselor on duty, that he was leaving. "Do you want me to lock up when I go?"

"Yeah, sweetie, thanks. I'll see you tomorrow, if we don't get anymore snow."

"Great. G'night." Kurt liked the Admissions office. The counselors were nice, and he felt useful. Even with the four student workers, there were only 10 people who worked in the office (not counting the student tour guides). They were like their own little family. Kurt was the only freshman; the job had been a lucky get, tied up with his scholarship in some way he didn't understand. It was decidedly better than washing dishes in the cafeteria, or an off-campus job at McDonalds or something. It kept him in groceries, T fare cards, and the occasional night out with friends. He was one of the lucky ones; his need-based scholarship covered his tuition and half of his room and board. An academic grant paid for his textbooks. He and his dad split the rest of his room costs, which wasn't a huge sum. His family wasn't poor. His dad did a good business at the garage, and Finn's mom was a nurse. But with two kids in college, and with his dad being self-employed, the Hudson-Hummel clan fell into that magic group of people who were suddenly eligible for all kinds of financial aid. Kurt knew that not everyone had it so easy, but he also knew that he had worked hard to get here. If the university thought him worthy of scholarships, he wasn't going to turn them down.

The air was growing colder as he left the office. The sun would be setting soon, and then it would get really cold, and really slippery. Maybe it would be a better idea if he and Puck ordered in, pizza or Chinese, or maybe Indian from that place he had gone with Ethan one night after rehearsal. He decided to stop by the student union on his way back to the dorm to check his mail, which he hadn't done since last Saturday. He was pleased to find the new Vogue stuffed into his box along with a postcard from Mercedes ("Having a great time in Miami, wish you were here!") and an actual letter from Brittany, addressed in multicolored marker. He also had the Holy Grail of mailbox finds, a yellow package slip dated that morning. Thankfully, the window was still open. He fished his ID out of his pocket and presented it to the student clerk, who exchanged the slip for a large Priority mailbox addressed in Carol's handwriting. That was going to be fun. He walked carefully back to the dorm in the fading daylight. His room was quiet and dark when he opened the door, and he could see Puck, curled facing the window, sides rising slowly in sleep.

* * *

><p>Puck came awake at the snick of a key in the lock. He stayed still for a moment, and then rolled over to see Kurt, backlit by the dim light from the hallway, balancing a large box against his hip. "I'm assuming you slept well," Kurt said, a laugh in his voice.<p>

"Yeah." Puck's own voice felt gravelly from sleep. "How was work?"

"Busy. We were closed a lot this month because of the snow, so there's a lot to catch up on." He turned on the overhead light, crossed the room, and set the box down on top of the books on his desk. "Carol sent a package. We can open it together later, if you want."

"Uh huh."

"Also, it's getting really cold and slippery out. Would you be okay if we just ordered something in for dinner?"

"Sure. Do you have anything in mind?" Puck really didn't care, as long as he got food, so he figured he'd let Kurt choose.

"Have you ever had Indian?"

"No. Is it good?"

"Killer. Your choices are spicy or mild, and chicken, lamb, or veggie."

"Mild. Chicken."

"Do you trust me to order for you?"

"Yes."

"Good."

Puck sat up, and watched as Kurt again shed his coat and scarf. He rifled through his top desk drawer and pulled out a stack of take-out menus. He thumbed through them until he apparently found what he was looking for. Puck scrubbed his hand across his face. "Hey, Kurt, can I take a shower?"

"Sure. Let me get you a towel and stuff." He pulled a fluffy dark blue towel out of his closet, and handed over a plastic caddy full of bath products. "Do you want to borrow my robe?"

"Uh, no. That's okay."

Puck gathered the towel and shower caddy, and wandered up the hall towards the bathroom. It was also remarkably like the one in Finn's dorm. Puck took the last stall with what looked like the biggest shower. He turned the water to hot and let it run while he stripped. The spray wasn't too hard, but it was hot and plentiful, not the pathetic trickle he'd been expecting. He almost sighed with how good it felt. He shampooed his hair twice with something that smelled like honey and almonds, a scent he recognized as Kurt's shampoo. He washed with a cucumber-scented wash that made his skin feel soft. Then he just stood under the spray, washing away his travel and the diner and every scared, confused emotion of the day. When he felt clearer, he turned the water to cold for a count of 10, and then turned it off. He toweled off with the thick towel Kurt had given him, and wrapped it around his waist. At the sinks, he used Kurt's shaving cream and razor to get rid of the stubble on his neck and face. He gathered his clothes and padded back up the hall in his bare feet. The door to Kurt's room was propped open with a shoe, and when he went inside there was a note scrawled on a piece of notebook paper on the bed.

**P-**

**Went down to wait for the food, and to get us sodas. Make yourself comfortable. Be up soon.**

**-K**

Puck rummaged in his pack for clean underwear, thick socks, and sleep pants. He was debating tank top or t-shirt when the door opened again and Kurt returned, a large paper bag in one hand and two plastic bottles of Coke in the other. "It's dinner!"

Puck grabbed the first shirt he could find, a faded black tank, and pulled it over his head.

Kurt was right, the food was killer. They shared chicken in a flavorful tomato and cream sauce over rice (Kurt had called it Chicken Tikka something), a rice dish with curry, vegetables, nuts and raisins served with a yogurt sauce ("To cool it down," Kurt said, because he liked it kind of spicy), crispy dumpling-things filled with potatoes and peas, and pieces of soft, pita-style bread spread with butter. Before they dished up the food, Kurt had tucked two plastic containers into his fridge. "Dessert, for later. The most wonderful rice pudding you'll ever eat. It's called Kheer. I'm telling you, you've never had anything like it." They ate all of the dumplings and chicken, but still had half of the rice left. Kurt rummaged in the same crate that had held the paper plates they were eating on and pulled out a gladware container. "Success. I think this will fit in my fridge. Snack for later!" He emptied the leftover rice while Puck gathered up the empty food containers and put them back in the paper bag. "Do you have a place to put these?"

"Go the same way you would to go to the bathroom. Last door on the left is the kitchenette, such as it were. There should be a big trashcan in there."

When Puck returned to the room, Kurt was unbuttoning his shirt. "I've got to get out of these clothes," he told Puck. Puck turned away, a little unsure about overstepping boundaries. "You can turn around," Kurt called to him. "I'm decent." "Decent" was his white undershirt and a pair of blue and gray flannel pants. It wasn't what Puck had expected. Nothing about this Boston Kurt was what he had expected.

* * *

><p>Kurt could feel Puck's nervousness, and wasn't quite sure what he needed to do to get him to relax. He started by plugging in the colored lights he'd strung around the window back before Christmas, and turning out the overhead. In his experience, it was sometimes easier to talk about hard or scary things in almost-darkness. He stretched out along the wall side of his bed, and gestured for Puck to come and lay next to him. When Puck did, Kurt curled in behind him and wrapped his arm across Puck's chest. "I know you're scared," he began. "I promise, we just need to talk. For me, it's not as hard to talk if I'm in physical contact with someone else."<p>

"I get that," Puck responded.

"Okay. Good. So, a few ground rules. No talking around things. If you don't know how to respond, or feel like it's too personal, just say so. No lying. Nothing physical as a way to avoid talking."

"I think I can handle that. But I'm not very good at this."

"Neither am I. I guess we're just going to have to be patient with each other."


	6. Chapter 5

"Did you always know?" His hand rubbed lazy circles on Kurt's back.

"I always felt different. But when you have no idea what sexuality even is, it's kind of hard to identify what that difference is."

"So when did you know?"

"5th or 6th grade. I just wasn't interested in girls like the other boys. I liked boys instead."

"Do you think I'm gay?"

"Noah Puckerman, you are definitely NOT gay."

"But there's you."

"Having feelings for me, and only me, doesn't make you gay."

"Then why do I feel this way?"

"I can't answer that for you."

* * *

><p>"What was the tipping point?" Kurt disentangled himself from Puck, sat up and ran a hand over his face.<p>

"For what?"

"Getting you on an airplane to Boston."

"Oh. I just… woke up this morning feeling like if I didn't leave Lima immediately, I'd never do it. And then I'd end up angry and bitter and hating everyone and everything. I'd have ended up like my dad."

"When did he leave?"

"I was 10. Got up one morning and he was just gone. He left me his guitar." Puck nodded his head to the little alcove he had made with his desk, where the guitar case was propped against the wall. He watched as Puck swung his gaze away and said quietly, "I hate him. I think I'll always hate him."

Kurt decided to give Puck a minute; "I'm thirsty. Do you want a bottle of water?"

"Yeah." Puck's voice was a whisper.

"Puck?"

"Yeah?"

"You could never become your father."

* * *

><p>Puck sat, back against the wall at the foot of Kurt's bed, looking out at the twinkling lights of the city. "Why did you and Blaine really break up?"<p>

"It was too hard. The distance and everything."

"Don't give me that shit. 2 hours isn't that far away. And don't feed me any crap about competing glee clubs, either."

"He was my first. I'll always love him for that. But really, I think we're just better as friends. And it was mutual, just so you know."

"You're evading."

"No, I'm-"

"Yes. You are. Answer the damn question."

"Fine." Kurt sighed in frustration. "Truth?"

"Please."

"I was scared. Blaine had all these plans. For us. I mean, he had this ideal future planned out for us, where we went to fancy colleges and became brilliantly successful, and got married, and became your typical DINK gays."

"DINK?"

"Double income, no kids."

"So you didn't want all of that?"

"I was seventeen-fucking-years old. I couldn't even decide what to eat or wear every day. And I didn't want to limit my future before it even started. Believe it or not, I also didn't want to become my father."

Puck let out a tiny, bitter-sounding laugh at that thought. "Whatever."

"I'm serious. My dad met my mom when they were both just out of high school. He loved her, he loves me. But I also think he had dreams of his own and got tied down to them, to Lima, before he was really ready to. He's not resentful or anything like that, but I do think he's sad in a way that isn't related to my mom dying. Or my being gay."

"So you don't want what Blaine did?"

"I'm not saying that. I just didn't want it at 17."

"What is your vision for your future?"

"Well, I have four more years of school at least, after this one."

"Why?"

"Northeastern is a 5 year program. After sophomore year, I'll spend a year doing two internships before I finish my academic classes. But if I decide to get a Master's degree, it'll probably be another two years beyond that."

"What about family?"

"Someday. If I meet the right guy and maybe even if I don't."

"I think you'd be a good dad."

"I've had a good role model."

Puck was still sitting against the wall, further away than Kurt wanted him. He turned around and settled himself with his back against Puck's bent knees.

"I'm really the only guy you've been interested in?"

"Yeah."

"Why me?"

"If I could answer that, I probably wouldn't be here right now."

"You said it started that day in the dumpster?"

"Yeah. And then, when you sang that duet with Blaine at Regionals, you were so . . . you really put yourself out there. You made me cry that day. Like a baby."

"Finn told me."

"But it was really last year. When you came back from Dalton and were more a part of things than you had ever been. When you're confident, when you're happy, you change. It's really attractive. More than a little sexy. You intrigue me."

"This you, the one here in my bed? You intrigue me, too."

Stretched out again, Puck spooned with Kurt's back against his chest. Dude was more buff than he looked.

"There really haven't been any guys since Blaine?"

"Nope."

"Not even dates?"

"Oh. There have been a string of go-nowhere, eternally boring, please-don't-call-me-again dates. I think I've mastered the art of the bad first date."

"What's the problem?"

"I go to school in what is arguably the largest college town in the country, and I can't meet a triple threat to save my life."

"Triple threat?"

Kurt raised a hand and counted. "Smart. Subtly witty. Able to hold a coherent, engaged conversation about something other than their hometown, their major, sports or reality TV. I really don't think I'm asking for much, but the universe appears to disagree. I actually feel like I'm doing penance for some misdeed I don't even remember."

"Your standards sound reasonable to me. Dumb kind of loses its appeal after a while."

Kurt turned in his arms to shoot him a Look Of Death. "Dumb never appealed to me."

"Sure. I seem to remember an epic crush on Finn. Dude's like my brother, but he's pretty dim."

"What can I say? I was young. It was mildly endearing."

"There have to have been some decent ones."

"Some of them were nice, but none of them were worth it."

"Worth what?"

"Worth me."

Puck felt like he was missing something, and said as much. Kurt sat up again, turning to face him and crossing his legs underneath himself. "Have I ever told you about having The Talk with my dad?"

"No."

"So, when I first started at Dalton, after everything with Karofsky…"

"The bullying, and the kiss, the one in the locker room?"

Puck had heard this story at Nationals in D.C., when they were all piled into the double beds in the girls' room sharing first kiss stories.

"Yeah. Anyway, I was a little gun shy, and Blaine decided to intervene. He actually told my dad that he needed to get over himself and give me the sex talk. So dad goes down to the free clinic and gets all these pamphlets, which he gives me and then he sits me down at the kitchen table. And he tells me that even though sex feels good, and I'm going to like it and want to keep doing it, I need to look out for myself. He tells me not to throw myself around for no-strings sex because I'm worth more than that. And that's what I think of when I go on a first date. I ask myself if he's worth putting myself out there so intimately, and the answer is usually no."

"Would I be worth it?"

"I'm not sure yet."

* * *

><p>It is Kurt's turn to hold Puck close, and he kind-of twines his fingers through Puck's.<p>

"What do you feel for me? I mean, what do you think you feel for me?"

"Like I said, you intrigue me."

"And?"

"When you smile, when you're happy, my stomach drops to my feet. Your new preppy college boy look and your confidence is a total turn on."

"Feelings, Puck. I know you don't 'do' feelings, but dig deep for me here."

He can feel Puck tense in frustration. "I'm trying. Just…. God, Kurt, just let me talk."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. Like I told you, I'm not real good at this." He's silent for a minute, and Kurt can feel him control his breathing while he figures out what to say. "OK. First of all, don't respond. Just let me talk."

"I can do that."

"If I'm going to be totally honest, which is a place I don't go very often, I think I might love you. I mean, I might be in love with you."

Kurt's breath catches in his throat. He had kind of half-expected this after that kiss, but he didn't think that Puck would actually cop to it. In fact, it's the act of admission that tells Kurt the most. The core feelings might be love, but more than anything Puck is _trusting_ him. Just like feelings, Kurt somehow knows that Puck doesn't usually 'do' trust. This is huge.

"I mean, I thought that I loved Quinn, but that felt nothing like this. When I got on that plane this morning, all I could think about was you. What it would feel like to see you again. That wherever you were could be home to me. When I saw you waiting for me at the subway? It was like I felt such relief. And then we kissed and it was like the world opened up."

"_Oh_."

* * *

><p>He'd been dancing around it all night. He hadn't wanted to scare Kurt, didn't want to pressure him, and yet he felt like if he admitted what had been stirring inside of him for all this time, it would seem like it was coming out of nowhere. It kind of was. After all, he'd been carrying it around with him. He <em>knew<em>, even if he had been trying to deny it; but he figured it would come as a shock to Kurt. What he hadn't expected, when he turned to look at Kurt, was the openness and softness on his face.

* * *

><p>When Kurt looked in Puck's eyes, he saw clear into his soul. It was all laid bare there, and Kurt thought that maybe he could get lost if he let go at all. In a way, hearing Puck's admission, <em>feeling<em> it, was like that first kiss with Blaine all over again; nothing else existed in that moment except for the two of them. Puck was offering Kurt his own broken and imperfect heart; it was a gift of possibility, but Kurt knew he would be taking a risk by accepting it.

* * *

><p>Puck felt more than saw the hesitation in Kurt's mind. He had to do something, tip the scales into his favor somehow. He decided to take the plunge, tucked his hand behind Kurt's head and gently pressed his lips to Kurt's.<p>

* * *

><p>The kiss was like nothing and everything, so different from the earlier one. Where that first kiss had been passion and frustration, this was potential and promise. Kurt's mind reeled. What was he doing? If he jumped into this, he was going to be all in; neither he nor Puck did anything halfway. Kurt's thoughts were echoing <em>is he worth it? Take the chance. Is the worth it? Yes. Oh yes. <em>He gave in to the kiss, to the doubt, to the hope. He opened himself to Puck, and let go.

* * *

><p>Puck felt Kurt, relaxed in sleep, breathing beside him. Puck had long believed that the simple act of sleeping, curled around another person in the night, was one of the most intimate things you could share. That's why he never stayed over, or allowed girls to stay at his house. That would have been giving them too much. But he wanted to give himself, heart and soul, to Kurt. He had all these feelings filling him up, <em>want <em>and_ need _and_ love_. He could breathe for the first time in what felt like forever. And there was something else, something warm and soft that he felt towards Kurt, something that he thought might be tenderness. He tightened his arm across Kurt's chest, and whispered "don't you dare hurt me" into the darkness before sleep finally claimed him.


	7. Chapter 6

Puck woke slowly, to what sounded like a symphony. When he opened his eyes, he saw that both his and Kurt's cell phones were ringing and buzzing on Kurt's desk. His own phone was chiming the bells that were his mom's ringtone. He started to reach across Kurt to climb out of bed, but Kurt stopped him. "I've been lying here listening to them for the last half hour. So far, I think it's just your mom calling you. Mine. . ." he paused, as "Little Pink Houses" started up. "That's my dad." The phone fell silent for a few seconds, and then the gentle strains of Carole King filled the room. "That would be Carol," Kurt said with a smile. And then "Don't Stop Believin'". Puck smiled down at Kurt.

"Finn?" he asked.

"Predictable, I know."

Puck laughed as the same song started on his own phone.

"Finn?" Kurt asked with a laugh.

"Yeah. Not so predicable, apparently."

"Your disappearance seems to have been noted, and I'm assuming you at least told your mom you'd be here, or else nobody would bother calling me. I mean, we haven't exactly been friends in the past."

Puck's heart ached at that thought, at the idea that he had wasted time that he could have had with Kurt. "Yeah," he said softly. "I left a note for my mom."

Kurt's voice was gentle. "I think you need to answer her next call. And I think I'm going to call Carol."

"Not your dad?"

"Sometimes it's easier to talk to Carol. Especially where matters of the heart are concerned."

"What time is it?"

"Oh. Early. 7 am."

"God, I'm sorry this all got you up."

"No, no. I have to work at 8, so it's okay."

Puck hadn't even thought to ask if he was intruding on Kurt's plans for the rest of his break. But he somehow knew that now _he_ was Kurt's plan for the rest of his break.

"Speaking of, I'm going to go shower. You should call your mom. If you leave the room, prop the door open with something so it doesn't lock behind you."

Puck watched Kurt gather towel and shower caddy, and when the door closed behind him, he rolled out of Kurt's slightly-too-tiny bed and picked up his phone. He bypassed his voicemail and all of the missed calls, and dialed his mom's cell with shaking hands.

"Noah!" Her voice was heavy with relief. "Are you really in Boston?"

"Yeah, Mom."

"Why, baby? What was so important that you just ran off like that? What about spring semester, and your job?"

"I, um . . . I think I'll be home on Monday, but I'll call when I know for sure. I'm not going to blow off work or school." The truth was that he had been planning on doing just that if things hadn't gone the way he wanted to with Kurt. But now he felt like he had a reason to go back and follow through with his plans.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah." He swallowed. "I'm fine. I just. I had something I needed to do here."

"Kurt." How the hell had she known?

"Yeah."

"Baby, why didn't you tell me?"

"There was nothing to tell. I just had to come here and see."

"See what?"

Oh, what to say. How to tell her in a way she'd understand? In a way he'd understand? His silence must have spoken volumes.

"It's okay, Noah. You can tell me all about it when you're ready."

"Thanks, Mom."

"I'll let you go, honey. Have fun and be careful. Come home safe."

"I will."

"Love you."

"Love you, too, Mom."

He clicked off the call and bent to start making Kurt's bed when his phone rang again. He really needed to find a better ringtone. "Hey, man."

"Dude. What are you doing? Your mom was like, totally panicking."

"It's fine, I just talked with her."

"Why are you in Boston?"

"I just needed to get away, and Boston was the cheapest flight to where I knew somebody." Finn wasn't smart enough to listen through the lie.

"Kurt didn't mind you just showing up like that?"

"Nah. He and I are cool."

"Okay. Hey," Puck could hear whispering in the background. "Dude, I gotta go."

Before Puck could answer, he heard the dead air of a disconnected call. He set his phone back on the desk next to Kurt's, finished making the bed, and got dressed in his jeans and a hoodie he had stuffed in his pack. He found his toothbrush, stuck a shoe in the door, and went up the hall to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Kurt was at a sink, towel wrapped around his waist, shaving. Puck watched him from just inside the door for a moment before crossing the room and plucking Kurt's toothpaste from his caddy. Kurt's eyes twinkled at him, and they finished getting ready in silence.

When the bed was made and Kurt was dressed in jeans washed so dark they were almost black and a thick, light gray sweater that was all-over cables ("Carol knitted it for me for Christmas" was Kurt's response to Puck's raised eyes, "and today is Casual Friday in campus offices"), Puck asked him what his day looked like.

"I have work from 8-noon. You can come with me, if you want, and hang out in the office, or you can stay here. Either option is pretty boring. Or, you could explore Boston."

"I'd rather explore Boston with you. I think I'll stay here. If that's okay."

"Of course. You can use my computer if you want; I'm logged into my Netflix account, so you can watch movies or whatever."

"I'm sure I can find ways to amuse myself."

Kurt smiled at him, teasing in his voice. "I'm sure you can."

After Kurt had left for work, Puck spent a few minutes poking through the stacks of paperbacks until his hand fell on a familiar slim volume. Kurt's copy was dog-eared and had a spine broken from multiple readings. Puck had never read it; it had been assigned in 10th grade, and he'd paid just enough attention to the in-class discussions to pass the test. It looked like it was one of Kurt's favorites, thought, so he figured he'd give it a try. He turned on Kurt's iPod, nested in it's speakers, scrolling through playlists titled "Dalton", "Broadway Divas", "Mr. Schue's Music I Can't Stop Listening To" and "Senior Year" until he found one titled "Freshman Mix." Puck listened for a minute as the soft strains of a ballad he didn't recognize filled the room. He settled back on Kurt's bed, propped his head up with pillows, opened the book and started to read. "_When he was nearly thirteen, my brother Jem got his arm badly broken at the elbow._" That wasn't too bad of an opening line, so he kept with it. It was kind of a quirky book in the beginning, but he liked the little kid voice of it all. He wasn't a fast reader, but it was fun to tune the world out that way. He got absorbed into the book, and the sensation of listening to music. When he got cold, he pulled the throw blanket from the bottom of the bed up over himself. At some point, he must have closed his eyes because when he opened them the book was open across his chest and Kurt was standing above him.

"Good nap?"

Puck stretched and yawned. "Apparently. I didn't realize I was tired."

"We were up kind of late last night."

"Yeah. How was work?"

"Busy, but good. I'm glad to be done, though. I kind of . . ." Puck watched as Kurt blushed pale pink. He turned away and let the rest of his words out in a rush. "I couldn't wait to get back here to you."

Puck felt his stomach turn over. He had it bad, he had known that coming in. The surprise was that Kurt seemed to feel the same way. He sat up and pulled Kurt down next to him on the bed. He looked into Kurt's eyes and told him "I have to go home on Monday."

* * *

><p>He hadn't expected Puck's announcement to make his heart break just a little bit. He should have expected it; Puck had his own school semester starting up. He just wished that they could have a little more time together before being separated for the 7 weeks until Kurt's spring break. He smiled a weak, trying-too-hard smile up at Puck and said "Then I guess we'll have to spend as much time together as we can until you have to leave."<p>

"Do we need to go anywhere, or can we stay right here?"

"If right here means in my bed, then yes."

"Good. Come here."

Puck stretched out again, and waited while Kurt pulled off his shoes and sweater and slid under the blanket and into the warmth of Puck's body. He hadn't felt like this since breaking up with Blaine, a kind of completeness that came only from being physically close and emotionally intimate with another person.

"When do your classes start?" he asked as he settled with his back against Puck's chest.

"Tuesday. I start work on Friday, too."

"You didn't tell me you had a new job. Where?"

"Down in Dayton, as an EMT with the fire department."

"That's awesome. Are you excited?"

Kurt could hear the almost-sheepishness in Puck's reply. "Yeah. I really am, actually."

"That's great. You'll be busy."

"Mmm hmmm. You will, too. It'll be good, I guess."

"It'll make the time till spring break go faster."

"Yeah."

Kurt felt Puck's hand start to trail through his hair.

"I'm still kind of surprised that you showed up here. I'm surprised that you've had these feelings about me for so long."

"Yeah, well."

"Puck?"

"Yeah?"

"What do you want to tell people? I mean, I just want to know what you want me to say because people are going to ask, if they haven't started already."

"I don't know yet. I don't know how to do _this_. I mean, I'm used to just fucking and going, y'know? But I don't want to do that. You mean more to me than that, and I don't know what to do with any of this."

"Any of what?"

"What I feel for you. How I feel when I'm with you. The kind of person I want to be for you."

"Oh." Kurt could hear the feeling behind Puck's words and feel the depth of emotions there. This was bigger than Kurt could have imagined. The more Puck put himself out there, the more trust he showed when he shared these things with Kurt, the harder Kurt fell. And he knew, in that instant, that Puck was either going to end up being the love of his life or his greatest mistake. Regardless, he had no doubt that his heart was going to break many, many times over Noah Puckerman. That knowledge scared him to his core. So did the fact that he was too far gone already to do anything but go along for the ride.

"I'll tell them whatever you want. But you have to understand a couple of things if we're going to do this."

"I thought we already were. Doing this."

"We are. I don't think I could stop it if I wanted to. Which I don't. But if we're going to be all-in, we're all-in. I stop going on all those wretched first dates. And you stop fucking girls."

"I haven't. Not since summer."

"Really. Hmmm. We'll come back to that later. The other deal-breaker is this: I will not go back into the closet for you. I'll keep our relationship a secret, if that's what you want, but I cannot lie about who I am. The closet is a dark, sad, suffocating place, and I won't go there again. So you just need to tell me what you want me to say."

"I think," he felt Puck's breath shudder as he ground out his next words, "that we should be honest."

"Are you sure? Because once it's out there, once _you're_ out there, you can't take it back."

"If I ask you to lie about us, that's just as bad as asking you to lie about yourself, right?"

"It's not the same."

"Yeah, K, it kind of is. And if I'm going to go all-in, and be _in this_ with you, I need to be a man and be honest about all of it." He paused, gathering his next thoughts, which he released in a whisper next to Kurt's ear. "I'm not ashamed that I love you."

* * *

><p>Puck held those moments in his mind when he slipped out of the warmth of Kurt's bed in the dark of Monday morning. He was a different person than the Puck who had come to Boston four days ago. He dressed silently, working hard to keep from waking Kurt or his roommate Ben, who had appeared late the night before. When he was ready, he shouldered his pack and grabbed his guitar. He stashed his electronics in the pockets of his jeans, and pressed a gentle kiss to his boyfriend's forehead. Puck left him curled in sleep as he went out into the cold alone.<p>

* * *

><p>Kurt didn't recognize the music blasting through his docking station; it wasn't his usual wake up, which had been random selections from Les Miz. When he opened his eyes, he saw an unfamiliar iPod Touch docked in place of his red Nano. There was a sticky note stuck to the screen, and when he wiped the sleep from his eyes he could see Puck's handwriting. <em>I can't stay here with you, so I left you a little bit of myself. I hope you don't mind that I took some of you with me. <em>

Kurt sighed, and tucked the sticky note into his top desk drawer. When he tapped the iPod screen, he could see the name of the playlist: "For Kurt." He hauled his empty, aching heart out of bed and started his day while Brandi Carlile sang.

_"I climbed across the mountain tops_

_Swam all across the ocean blue_

_I crossed all the lines and I broke all the rules_

_But baby I broke them all for you . . ."_


	8. Chapter 7

Kurt's phone rang out the strains of "Teenage Dream" as he was checking his mail between French and Psych. "Hey, Blaine."

"Did Puck really fly to Boston to proclaim his love for you?"

"Where did you hear that?"

"Mercedes, Rachel, **and** Quinn all emailed me."

"Seriously? How did they find out?"

"Apparently, Puck dropped the bomb on Finn when he got home last night. The New Directions gossip chain has been working non-stop."

"Oh. Crap."

"I have to say, I never expected that from Puck. But whatever. As long as you're happy, I'm good."

"Thanks, Blaine. Not like it really matters to me what you think."

"Ouch. Good morning, Mister Catty."

"Sorry. But it's kind of true. You're my friend, and I value your advice and opinions, but I'm a big boy and I can take care of myself."

"I just don't want to see you get hurt."

Kurt thought back to those quiet, stolen moments in his dorm room. "Somehow, I don't think that's going to be a problem."

"If you say so."

"Bite me."

"Love you, too, sunshine."

"Yeah. Look, Blaine, I have to run. Class in 5. Talk with you later?"

"You know it."

Kurt let his phone disconnect, and then he opened a new message window. He typed in _You told Finn?, _hit send, and was halfway to class when his phone chimed.

_And my mom._

Kurt typed back _On my way to class. Talk in an hour?_

_Yup_

Kurt worked to pay attention in class. The professor didn't go the whole hour, and he high-tailed it out of the lecture room as soon as she dismissed them. He didn't even take the time to stuff his notebook or syllabus back into his bag. Instead, he dialed Puck's cell before he had even left the room. Puck answered before the second ring.

"Hey."

"Hey. We're going public, I guess."

"Yeah. Sorry about that. When I got home, my mom kind of started asking the right questions. I mean, I don't know how, but I think she kind of knew already. So I told her the truth, that I love you and that we're together."

"How did she take it?"

"Okay, all things considered. She's always liked you. That helps. Then she told me that Finn had called her, all concerned because I kind of blew him off on the phone last week, so I called him back. I'm sorry, K, I had to tell him."

"It's okay. I was just surprised that Blaine already knew when he called me this morning."

"No shit. How'd he find out?"

"Finn must have told one of the girls, who told the rest. Rachel, Mercedes, and Quinn all emailed Blaine."

"Man, I'm really sorry. I figured you'd tell him when you were ready. My big mouth took that away from you."

"It's really okay. I promise. I just wanted to make sure you were all right and that the shit hadn't hit the fan."

"Nah. Nothing I can't handle. How was class?"

"Good. It's going to be a really busy semester. My Psych Stats class is going to kill me, I just know it. French and Lit are easy. Developmental is going to be okay, but we have to do 25 practicum hours. I might have to juggle work around to make it all fit. How about you?"

"I had Anatomy early. That's going to be awesome. English Comp this afternoon, and Bio II tomorrow. Work starts Friday."

"Still excited?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Okay, babe, I need to go scrounge some lunch and hit the books. Have a good class this afternoon."

"Have a good rehearsal. If you get busy, you don't need to call me later. I love you."

Kurt was still a little surprised at the ease with which endearments seemed to roll out of Puck's mouth. "I love you, too."

Kurt sighed into the phone as Puck clicked off. It felt like a lifetime since the weekend, and Puck had only been gone for 24 hours. He and Blaine had had so much time together before Kurt left Dalton for McKinley. But he and Puck were so new that being apart made him feel shattered. He hated that. He needed some peace, so after he got through the cafeteria line he took his stir fry and his salad to a small corner table. He unwrapped his headphones from around Puck's iPod, opened the "For Kurt" playlist, and ate his lunch alone, immersed in music.

* * *

><p>The sun was just coming up when Puck settled into his truck for the hour and a half drive from Dayton to Lima. He started the engine, buckled his seatbelt, and dialed Kurt's cell. As soon as he'd gotten his first paycheck, he'd had a hands-free mount for his phone installed on his dash so that he could talk with Kurt during his commute.<p>

"Hey, you. Long shift?" Kurt sounded sleepy.

"Kind of. How 'bout you? I woke you, didn't I?"

"Yeah. It's okay, though. I have a lot to get done today."

"Good rehearsal last night?"

"Pretty good. Ethan and I went for Indian after, and I thought of you."

"How's Ethan?"

"He's fine. He's got a new boyfriend, some guy from one of his classes or something. I kind of spaced him out after a while. How was work?"

"I helped deliver a baby tonight. That was wicked." That was partly the truth. The baby was a boy and the mom was dark like Rachel, but the whole thing made him think of Quinn and Beth. He'd held the baby, wrapped in a towel, while his training partner helped the mother out of the backseat of the car. He'd instantly remembered the feather weight of Beth in his arms, the bright light of the hospital nursery. The cold emptiness he'd felt that whole long summer, knowing his baby was out there without him.

"What else?" Kurt's gentle voice probed through the miles. "I can hear it in your voice. You're thinking about Beth, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

"You can call Shelby, you know, and ask for pictures and things. She's going to be three soon. I'll bet if you asked, she'd even let you send a birthday present."

"I dunno."

"Just think about it. It might help you feel less adrift with everything."

"Maybe."

"Okay. What else?"

"How do you know there's more?"

"I know you. What else?"

"There was this kid . . . young. 14?"

"Oh. Shit."

"Yeah."

"Pills?"

"Yeah."

"Did you-?"

"Yeah. We got there in time. His mom found him. He was so skinny, and pale."

"Did he leave a note?"

"Yeah."

Puck signaled, and then pulled off to the shoulder. His voice was closing up, and he knew the tears he'd been battling since that call were about to spill.

"Why did he-?"

"He was. Oh, God. He said that he hated who he was, and that nobody would ever understand how hard it was."

"You got there in time, Puck. You helped save him. And now he's with people who can help him save himself."

"He made me think of you, about how awful I was to you when we were that age. If I had . . . if you . . . _shit_."

"Slow down, baby. Breathe."

Puck took in a few shuddery breaths and tried again. "I treated you so badly when we were kids. I'm so sorry."

"I know. I can't tell you that I'm okay with the things you did, but I understand a little bit of where you were coming from. And you're not that boy anymore."

"I guess you're right."

"Or course I'm right. Are you sure that's all that's going on?"

"Yeah. The kid, and the baby, and the missing you, it all just caught up with me."

"I'll be home on Thursday night. Do you have work, or are you still planning to pick me up at the airport?"

"No, I'll be meeting you. I have the day shift all weekend, by special request."

"Are you okay to drive now?"

"How did you know I'd pulled over?"

"You're too smart to cry and drive."

"I wasn't-"

"Don't lie to me, Puck. I told you, I know your voice."

"Okay, yeah. I'm okay to drive now."

"Big plans for the day?"

"Dude, I just worked an overnight. I'm going home, eating breakfast, and going to bed. How about you?"

"Stupid stats homework. A paper for Lit. Tonight I'm helping with a teen AIDS workshop at BAGLY."

Puck knew that Kurt loved his volunteering with Boston's GLBT youth center. He assisted an adult leader with a middle school support group and worked with some older teens on HIV/AIDS workshops. He kept telling Puck that the kids were remarkable, so secure in themselves and with access to the kinds of support he had been aching for in Lima.

"Have fun with that. Don't embarrass the kids too much."

"I won't."

"I should let you start your day."

"If you want. You know I love waking up to your calls, right?"

"I do."

"In 6 days, I'll be waking up with you. If my dad will let you stay at our house Thursday night."

Kurt had told him that Burt was still unsure about allowing Kurt to have a boyfriend stay over. Even if there was nothing really going on.

"If we can't stay at your house, I'm pretty sure my mom will let us stay at my house. And if not, we can always get a room for the night."

"Let me work on my dad some more. I think I'm getting close."

"Okay. Seriously, K. Go start your day. I'm almost to the coffee shop. It's a coffee kind of morning. Have a good day and I'll talk with you tomorrow?"

"Same time, same place."

"Love you."

"Love you, too."

God, Puck missed him. Six days. Six days until he could breathe again.


	9. Chapter 8

Lima, Spring 2013

Thursday

Puck was so excited he couldn't stand still. He was waiting at the entrance to baggage claim, bouncing from foot to foot, checking his watch and his phone and jiggling his keys in the pocket of his jeans. His arms were aching to hold Kurt. He'd checked the status of this flight 20 times already, and he knew that it was on time. He also knew that this late at night, the chances of him missing Kurt were nonexistent. There were only two families here to meet people, an older man maybe his mom's age, and a young couple pushing a sleeping toddler in a stroller. He pulled out his phone, checked for texts (he had none), and opened facebook (again). He hadn't posted all day, not wanting to jinx Kurt's safe return home, but he couldn't hold it in anymore. He tapped in the "share" box and typed _at the airport, waiting for K._ He scrolled down his news feed to see that Finn was _psyched for break_, Rachel had _one last rehearsal, then home tomorrow_, Quinn was wondering _Why am I leaving sunny San Diego for snowy Ohio?_, and Santana _can't head home until I finish this bleeping paper. Someone kill me now?_ By Sunday, the whole gang should be home. Monday, they all had plans for an extended lunch at The Egg to catch up. Puck was, admittedly, a little nervous. It would be the first time he and Kurt would be with their friends as a couple, and Puck knew that long-distance support via social networking and texting didn't always translate well in person. He checked again for messages, and was about to dial Kurt's cell when he heard Kurt whisper in his ear: "Did you miss me?"

He turned and gathered Kurt to him. "You have no idea." Even though Kurt had been in class all day and alternately on the subway, in the airport and on a plane since late afternoon, he looked put-together. He had his pea coat slung over one arm and his messenger bag over his chest. He also had an expression of pure bliss on his face.

"I knew I missed you," he told Puck, "but I had no idea how much I ached for you until just now."

"I know. I can breathe now." God, it killed him to admit that, to admit that he needed Kurt not just in his life but physically close. In his mind, that implied a neediness that made him uncomfortable. Then again, he'd always made his own way in the world, and the entire idea of needing anything from anyone was kind of foreign. Crap. This was supposed to be a great night. His boy was home. He leaned in and touched his lips to Kurt's gently, but instead of kissing him back, Kurt stiffened and pushed him away. He glanced in panic around the nearly-empty baggage claim.

"Don't do that here," he hissed under his breath. "You have no idea what people might say or think."

"I don't care. I told you, I'm not ashamed of loving you."

"This has nothing to do with shame and everything to do with not getting our asses kicked, or told we're going to hell, or any number of scenarios that end in a million bad ways."

"Whoa. Okay." Puck stepped back, hands up in front of his chest. "Sorry. I won't do it again."

"God, _I'm_ sorry. I forget, sometimes. You've never really had to think about things like that. I do it automatically. Sometimes I'm hyper-aware. I didn't mean to fly off the handle. That said, when we get out to your truck, I can't wait to do that again. For real."

Puck actually felt himself blushing. His thoughts were interrupted by the incessant buzzing of the baggage carousel. Kurt joined the small group of passengers to wait for his bag, which he grabbed with a flourish when it appeared from the tunnel. He all but grabbed Puck's hand and dragged him to the parking lot. Kurt was on him before he'd gotten his door fully closed, hands fast and mouth hungry. Puck thought he might come out of his skin with the wanting. But they were in his truck, for fuck's sake. And he didn't want the first time to pass in a haze of hormones and frantic emotion. He wanted nothing but sweet time. He wanted it to mean everything, to _be_ everything. He moved slightly, managed to pull away enough to say "slow down."

Kurt stopped cold, and looked at Puck like he'd slapped him. "There I go, jumping into things, making people uncomfortable. I try so hard . . ."

"No. No. That's not what I meant. Hold up." He took a few deep breaths, tried to calm his body and focus his brain. "I just meant that we have time. And I'd rather do this, all of this, in a bed."

"Oh. Okay." Kurt rested back against the seat. "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing."

"We never even really talked about sex or anything."

"Well, we have 2 hours ahead of us. It sounds like we have a lot to talk about."

* * *

><p>Kurt was embarrassed. He hated when he overreacted. It was something he'd struggled with his whole life, but he felt like he was better at managing it now. The more confidence he had (actual confidence, not the fake stuff he wore like a mask in high school), the less he tended to jump the gun in emotionally volatile situations. But he was nervous and that always made it worse. He was excited to see Puck, but he was admittedly scared to death of dealing with the fallout of his decision to <em>be with<em> Puck. His dad had seemed apprehensive on the phone. Finn seemed to be avoiding him. Blaine was jealous (not that he'd admit it, but Kurt was pretty intuitive and could tell that Blaine was still kicking himself for letting Kurt walk away). The only ones who'd been genuinely supportive were Carol and, surprisingly, Quinn ("I'm happy for you both", she'd told him over the phone. A companion email told him that she _had often wished that Puck could have a genuine connection with somebody. Underneath all the show, he really is a sweet, caring guy. I also know you wouldn't invest in him if he treated you badly. Take care of your heart... and his. He's more fragile than anyone knows.) _

And now, here he was, feeling like an idiot because once Puck had gotten into the truck his brain went haywire. Puck had just looked so _edible_ in those damned ripped jeans (so impractical in Ohio in March) and a black t-shirt. And he'd jumped the gun. When Puck asked him to slow down, he was suddenly 15 again being told that he was bad and wrong for wanting what he wanted. For being who he was. That was also something he struggled with, and something he hid really well.

"Hey, we're okay. You're okay." Puck's voice was still rough with something (_desire_, Kurt thought). "There's nothing wrong with you or about you."

"Mind-reader." Sometimes, Puck's ability to see all of him scared him.

"I know you, too, K. That's been the good thing about this distance. We've talked through and about a lot of the hard stuff."

Kurt knew that Puck was right. Just like talking in the dark was easier than talking in the daylight, Kurt also found that talking with Puck during his pre-dawn or dark-of-night commutes between Dayton and Lima was easy. They took turns talking about the things in their lives that had made them, broken them, and built them back up again. Kurt told Puck what the constant bullying had felt like, how it made him doubt his ability to connect with other people. "It was like everyone kept me at a distance. I felt like I was bad. Like people were afraid of me. I know that's not what was really going on, but when you're told every day of your formative years that you're sick or wrong, you internalize it." But this was the first time Kurt had shown that internalized self-doubt to Puck.

He felt Puck reach his hand out, and he grabbed it. "Don't be ashamed for letting me see that. I know you're scared. This, _us_, it's kinda scary. It happened really fast. But I'm with you. We're in this together. Okay?" Puck squeezed his hand.

"Okay." He kept his hold on Puck's hand, but turned away slightly so that he could look out the window and watch the miles pass.

* * *

><p>"Don't shut me out, K." Puck said after the silence grew slightly uncomfortable.<p>

"I'm not."

"You kinda are."

"Yeah, I guess I am."

"Should we go ahead and have that sex talk now?"

Kurt couldn't do anything but laugh. "Mind in the gutter, much?"

"Um. No. Not really. I just think maybe this is one we need to get out of the way, and not save for a late night phone call."

Kurt sighed and steeled himself. "Okay."

"I don't want to push you too hard," Kurt told him. "Or rush you."

"You're not going to scare me off, don't worry."

"But it's a little scary at first."

"I'm not a virgin, Kurt."

"I know that. But I think maybe you're not prepared for the, um, anatomical differences?"

"I've done some reading. And some online . . . viewing."

"Ah. Those kinds of movies, yes. I remember them well. Let me just tell you that those movies have next to nothing to do with the actual act."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. I mean, there's no emotion in the movies. And it's the emotion that makes it so wonderful. It's another way to show someone how you really feel about them. It's not just doing it because it feels good. The emotions, the feelings, enhance everything that goes on physically."

"You felt that with Blaine?" He hated that he was jealous of Blaine. It sometimes felt like Blaine would always have a little corner of Kurt's heart. And it sort of galled him that Blaine had been Kurt's first.

"Blaine was my first. Because of that, it will always be special. But that will never take away from anything we do. Our first time?"

"Yeah?"

"It's going to be fantastic."

"How do you know?"

"Because what I feel for you is deeper and stronger than what I felt for Blaine. We're older. We're both pretty secure in ourselves and our relationship. There's no pressure. We can just let things happen."

"Okay."

"And here's the deal: if things get heated and you start to feel uncomfortable, tell me. Even though you're not a virgin, it's okay to feel scared or overwhelmed."

"You won't freak out?"

"I promise."

"Okay."

"And we have to use condoms. I know you're not a huge fan…"

"How do you know that?"

"Because you got Quinn pregnant."

"Point." Now he felt like an idiot.

"Thank you. It's a matter of safety. I preach it to the kids at the center all the time, and I'd be a hypocrite if I didn't hold myself to the same standard. I also feel like it's a sign of self-respect."

"Like, if we use protection then we both care about ourselves?"

"And each other."

"That makes sense."

He let go of Kurt's hand to rub it across his face. "I really want to, you know."

"I know. Me, too."

"But I don't want it to just be . . . sex, you know?"

"Um, okay."

"I remember what you told me about your talk with your dad. I want it to matter for you. I want to be worth it."

"Oh, Noah." He could hear Kurt's voice break. "You're worth it. You are so worth it."

"So are you."

* * *

><p><strong>Monday<strong>

Kurt was just out of the shower when he heard Puck's truck pull up in front of the house. He toweled off quickly, and busied himself with hair combing and teeth brushing before throwing on a pair of baggy jeans and the red McKinley Football hoodie Puck had left behind the other night. It smelled like him, and it made Kurt feel safe. He was still a little nervous about seeing the New Directions gang, and figured that if a stupid sweatshirt would help him get through lunch, he'd roll with it. Neither the jeans nor the hoodie were things anyone in Lima had ever seen him in, though he had integrated them into his "lazy weekend college boy" wardrobe since going to Boston. He stuck his wallet in his back pocket and grabbed his house keys from the top of the dresser before bounding down the stairs and out the front door. Puck was watching him with hungry eyes through the window of the truck. He loved seeing _that_ kind of a look on Puck's face directed at _him. _So much of their relationship to this point had existed in the subtleties of spoken words; he was spending this time together treasuring their shared physical proximity. It was the small intimacies that helped bring home just _how real_ this all was: that Puck didn't pull away from Kurt's hand on his hip; that Puck would lean into him, almost unconsciously, whenever they were sitting next to each other; the ease with which Puck would rest a hand on his back to guide him through a door. He climbed up into the passenger side and slid across to greet Puck with a kiss.

* * *

><p>Kurt was quiet on the drive to The Egg. Puck could feel Kurt's nervousness coursing through his leg where it jittered against Puck's own. He settled his hand on Kurt's knee. "Relax. They're our friends. We have nothing to worry about. They love us."<p>

"That's just it. They love us, each of us, individually."

"And?"

"I'm just worried that they won't love us collectively as a couple, is all. I mean, you're straight, and here we are, together."

"So we're a little different then the last time everyone was together. I'll bet there've been a lot of changes for everyone. College seems to be the time for that." He signaled and turned into the parking lot, slipping his truck in between Mercedes' mom's station wagon and Mike's vintage Beetle. "Just breathe and remember that it really doesn't matter what anyone thinks. If they're really our friends, they'll be happy for us."

"You don't really believe that."

"No. I don't. But one of us has to pretend to be brave and you have the worse poker face."

Puck climbed out of the truck and went around to open Kurt's door for him. He took his hand, and led him into the restaurant, where they were greeted by their friends with smiles and cheers.

The whole meal was a heady experience. Tina and Mike, broken up for over a year, were practically sitting in each other's lap. Rachel and Quinn were trading stories about their respective sororities. Sam, Finn, and Artie were talking about their brackets for March Madness, and Santana was scrolling through her phone, showing Brittany, Lauren, and Mercedes pictures of her girlfriend, who she had met standing in line for something during freshman orientation. Puck sat next to Kurt, with Kurt's hand in his under the table, smiling at the chaos. The ice had been broken almost instantly when Santana came over to hug them both. She whispered into Puck's ear "So, I guess there was more than one reason we never worked out. I'm happy for you. He's a good guy."

Kurt leaned over and told him "I forgot what this was like, being with a big group of people who know you. I love my friends in Boston, but there's so much they don't know. I never even have to explain to these guys."

"Yeah. I get that."

They sat around, talking in various groupings, for the better part of the afternoon until Mercedes stood up and said "I have to get the car back to my mom." Lauren got up, too, and gestured to Mercedes. "She's my ride. It's been real, guys." Puck heard her whisper to Kurt on her way by him, "Take care of my boy." Mercedes hugged them both, and said loudly "if anyone messes with you, tell me and I _will_ hurt them."

The group broke up slowly, making promises to hang out at least once more before everyone had to leave Lima again. There were more words of support and congratulations than Puck had expected. The only one who seemed a little reticent was Finn, so Puck finally cornered him in the men's room while Kurt walked Quinn to her car.

"Dude, why can't you just be happy for us? How hard is that?"

"It's not that I'm not happy for you. It's just . . . I know how you are, man, and I don't want you to break Kurt's heart."

"Why is it that nobody gives him any credit?"

"What?"

"He's so much stronger than any of you realize. He's not going to break. In fact, he's more of a man than I think I'll ever be."

"It's just, you don't do polygamy."

"Excuse me?"

"You know, you can't commit. You like sleeping around."

"You mean monogamy."

"Whatever."

"I'm all in, dude. I'm not going to hurt him." He took a deep breath and blurted out something he hadn't even told Kurt: "I'd walk through fire for him. It feels like I'm dying a little every day we're apart. If anything, I'm afraid he's going to break me." He'd said too much and didn't know what to do next, so he turned and left, Finn staring after him with water running, ignored, into the sink.

* * *

><p><strong>Saturday<strong>

Puck didn't want to wake Kurt up for a commuter phone call while he was on break, so he texted him instead. _Pick u up 2nite 6:30. _Kurt's reply came in when he was pulling into his driveway. _Are we going on a date? An actual date?_

_Yeah_

He hummed at the thought, at his plans, while he fixed himself breakfast and did his dishes. Upstairs, he stripped off his uniform and fell into bed, dreaming of Kurt as he slept. When he woke mid-afternoon, he puttered around the house doing his laundry and helping Lizzie with her Social Studies homework before taking a shower and getting ready to go out. Black jeans, tight black t-shirt, leather jacket. Cowboy boots. Not too much aftershave.

Kurt was waiting on his front steps when Puck pulled up, and all but ran down the walk, throwing himself into the cab. He kissed Puck full on the lips, and snaked his hand up the back of Puck's neck and into his hair. Puck finally had to pull away, breathless as always. "If you don't stop doing that, we're going to miss our reservation."

Dinner was at the new steakhouse on the edge of town. Candlelight, linen napkins, appetizer, _and _dessert. When they got out to the car afterwards, he was surprised to hear Kurt say "Let's go back to my house."

"But . . ."

"No buts. Nobody's home, and shouldn't be for a few hours, at least. We have time. Please."

Oh, crap. He was done for. Kurt's _please_ practically killed him. All Kurt had to do was ask and Puck knew he'd give him whatever he wanted.

* * *

><p>Kurt left the lights out as he led Puck through the living room, up the stairs, and into his room. He shut the door with a gentle click, lit a single candle on his dresser, and closed the blinds. "I hope I'm not being presumptuous," he said as he hooked a finger into the waistband of Puck's jeans and pulled him close.<p>

"Not at all."

Kurt reached up, slid his jacket off his arms and draped it over his desk chair. Then he led Puck over to his bed. "You can stop me if you need or want to."

"I'm fine, K."

"Okay." Kurt's voice was a whisper before Puck pulled him into a kiss. His brain exploded. He lost total track of everything except his breath, the beating of Kurt's heart under his hand, the warmth of skin on skin. In the barely-there light of the candle, he let go to hands and mouth. There were whispered endearments, Kurt's gentle voice asking "are you sure you want to do this?" and his own strangled pleas of _slow down, no don't stop, right there, faster, more, pleasepleaseplease_. And then he was exploding, breaking into pieces and letting go of the very last of the walls that protected him from the battering hands of the world. He was gone and he was safe and he was loved. He was _loved_. As he lay in Kurt's arms in the shuddering aftermath he was, finally, home.


	10. Chapter 9

Lima, Christmas 2013

Kurt was stuck at the back of the plane. He loved the airline's cheap flights, but he hated the self-seating policy. The only good thing was that the flight wasn't oversold. He actually had an empty seat next to him. He stretched out across both seats as best he could, tossed his pea coat over himself like a blanket, and closed his eyes. Four finals and a paper in three days had just about killed him. He'd taken his last exam at 9 am, turned his paper in at noon, gone back to his room to throw some clothes in a suitcase, and raced off for the airport. He was still in the same sweats and t-shirt he'd taken his exam in, but he really didn't care. He was going home. He was going to have six blissful weeks at home, shadowing the counselor at Lima Middle School during the days and spending nights at Noah's apartment halfway between Lima and Dayton. Six weeks before he had to go back to Boston for one more semester apart. And then, if the universe listened to his silent prayers, things were going to change.

He plugged himself into his iPod and dozed to the Miss Saigon cast recording until a flight attendant tapped his leg and told him to prepare for landing. He sat up, turned off his music, and tried to rub the sleep out of his hair and off his face. As soon as the plane touched down (a little too rough for his liking, really), he powered his phone on and fired off a rapid text to Noah, no doubt antsy in baggage claim. _On the ground. Taxiing. See you in a few. _He must have had his phone out, because his reply was almost instantaneous: _Can't wait._ Neither could Kurt, but he had to suffer through all those endless rows of passengers gathering coats and bags from under seats and overhead compartments. He stood in the aisle, waiting as the line crawled, until finally he was there, feeling the cold through the thin walls of the jetway, breaking free of the crowds and almost running through the terminal, down the escalator, into baggage claim and _oh._ There he was, the boy he loved, hip cocked to one side, thumbs in his pockets, relief and happiness wide on his face. Three steps and he was in Noah's arms. The feeling of it never got old. It was one of Kurt's favorite parts of coming home after being apart like that.

When they let go of each other, Noah held his hands out for Kurt's messenger bag and coat. "Why don't I hold those and you can go wait for your suitcase?"

"Sure."

He joined the other passengers, navigating carefully around their paper shopping bags full of gifts and small rolling suitcases to take a spot right near the start of the conveyor belt. He didn't want to be at the airport forever, but it would be just his luck to have his bag be the last one out of the plane. He was pleasantly surprised when it appeared near the end of the first group of bags; he grabbed it up and darted back towards Noah. He regained his coat and slid into it, taking his messenger bag. Noah took his suitcase and wheeled it behind them out to the parking lot.

"You eat?" Noah asked him when they had cleared the exit doors.

"Um. I had breakfast? And half a sandwich at the airport."

"Do you want to stop for something? Or was Carol going to hold dinner?"

"I told her not to wait, because I wasn't sure if there were going to be delays or anything."

"So you want to stop?"

"Yeah."

"You look exhausted."

"That's an understatement. I feel like I've run two marathons, then been run over by a truck."

"Why don't you close your eyes? We can stop at that little place you like."

"The one with the chili cheese fries?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

Kurt leaned his cheek against the cool of the window, and was almost instantly asleep.

* * *

><p>God, finals must have really taken it out of his boy, Noah thought as he watched Kurt, full on chili cheese fries, two Cokes, and a chicken sandwich, settle in for another car nap. He didn't care if all they did was sleep; he damn well wanted Kurt in his bed tonight. He reached up to where his phone was docked, and hit the speed dial for Kurt's house. Finn answered, breathless. "Hey man, what's up? Did my bro get in okay?"<p>

"Yeah. Hey. Is Burt there?"

"Sure. Hold on."

Noah could hear scuffling and muted whispers as the phone changed hands.

"Noah? What's up?"

"Hey, Burt. Do you need Kurt home tonight or can I keep him? He's really exhausted. He's actually been asleep for most of the drive."

"No, no. That's fine. We've got some family stuff tomorrow, though, if you could get him home by noon?"

"No prob. Thanks."

"Thanks for calling. And Noah?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for taking care of him."

"Always."

When he was done with the phone, he turned the radio on low and sang along softly to the eclectic mix of Tim McGraw, Matchbox Twenty, and one of those girls with ethereal voices that were standards on the Western Ohio radio dial. The music helped eat up the miles, helped distract him. His mind was full of Kurt, family obligation, the letters that had arrived in his mailbox this afternoon. The letters that were sitting unopened on his kitchen counter, holding a multitude of keys to his future. He wanted to open them with Kurt, to celebrate or mourn, and then to talk about the endless array of options, regardless of what news the letters held.

Kurt woke almost instantly when Noah pulled his truck into the driveway of the little house where he rented a small converted-garage apartment on a month-to-month lease. It wasn't much, but it was enough. Big enough for his needs, but not too big for a guy living alone. Close enough to his job in Dayton and school, as well as his family in Lima. Home enough until he could build his own real home with Kurt. He helped Kurt down from the passenger seat, took control of both of Kurt's bags, and ushered him to the door.

"I thought you were taking me home?"

"Change of plans. And yes, I cleared it with your dad. I mean, it feels a little silly doing that, since we're kind-of adults. But I know it makes Burt happy when I talk with him and that makes things easier for you."

Kurt shed his jacket inside the door, leaving it on the floor in a very un-Kurt-like pile with his shoes. As he walked through the tiny kitchen/living room/eating area on his way to what Noah assumed would be the bathroom, he also lost his t-shirt and sweats, socks, and underwear. Noah was still managing Kurt's bags when he heard the shower turn on and Kurt release an ecstatic sigh. He puttered around, putting away the clean dishes off the drain board and tossing Kurt's dirty clothes into the laundry basket with his own. He took two bottles of cold water from his fridge and placed one on the floor on each side of his bed before stripping off his own clothes in favor of sleep pants. He lit two candles on his night stand, turned the lights out, and waited in bed for Kurt to emerge. When he finally did, he was flushed from the heat of the water and his eyes were sparkling. He rummaged in Noah's dresser for a pair of pants of his own, and then snuggled into Noah, his towel-damp hair leaving cool droplets of water on Noah's chest. "Thank you," he said. "I really just needed to be with you tonight. You always know what I need."

Noah pressed a kiss to the top of Kurt's head. "That's because I usually need the same thing. Feel better?"

"Much. Like I'm almost human again."

"Good. Because I might have some news."

* * *

><p>Noah produced two envelopes from somewhere on his side of the bed. One was regular-sized, the other legal-sized and thick.<p>

When Kurt got his brain and mouth into gear, he asked "Is that what I think it is? From where I think it is?"

He felt Noah nod against him. "Yeah."

"You didn't open it." It wasn't a question.

"Nope. I wanted to wait for you. It was important."

"Okay, then, let's open these."

He sat up then, and watched as Noah pulled the flap on the larger envelope. A letter, a folder, a sticker. All good signs that Kurt recognized from his own college application process. The kinds of things he helped put into accepted-student packets at the admissions office. He picked up the letter and read:

"Dear Mr. Puckerman: We are pleased to accept you as a transfer student to the sophomore class at the University of Massachusetts, Boston campus, to begin with the spring semester in February, 2014. Enclosed you will find details of your financial aid package. Welcome to the class of 2016."

He looked up into Noah's stunned face. "Yay! You got in! What's in the other envelope?"

"If I'm lucky, a job offer."

"Really." Again, not a question.

"When I came out to see you that long weekend and I told you I'd be okay all day while you had class and shit?"

Kurt remembered. "Uh huh."

"I had a job interview. Jake set it up for me." Jake was Noah's supervisor with Dayton Fire/EMS. Kurt had met him once, and he seemed to think of Noah a lot like a son. More importantly, he was Noah's mentor.

"Where?"

"Boston EMS. If I get it, I'd go in as an EMT-B, like I am now, but I've got enough hours that I can start my classes for EMT-II. The city would pay for it, and also for some of my college classes. If I get it."

"What are you waiting for? Open the letter."

He watched anxiously as Noah read it silently, smiled what looked like a sad little half-smile, and gathered Kurt back into his arms.

"Don't make me hurt you. What did it say?"

Noah's voice was a whisper. "I got it."

"I'm so-. Wait. You got it?"

Again, a whisper. "Yeah."

"You got it! Oh, baby, congratulations!"

He didn't need to be looking to know that Noah was crying.

* * *

><p>God, Noah felt like a freaking baby. He couldn't even handle good news without falling apart. It was, admittedly, the best news he'd had since Kurt had kissed him back that first afternoon a lifetime ago, but it was like there was suddenly too much good. Life wasn't like this. Well, maybe other people's lives were like this. But in Lima, for most of the people he knew, life was just going along to get along, don't dream too big, don't want too much. And if something bright and shiny fell into your life, you'd best not enjoy it too much because things could turn to shit before you knew it. And here he was, Noah freaking Puckerman, badass supreme and lifelong screw-up with a heaping pile of the biggest, bestest bright-and-shiny in the world. And he was so scared that it was going to disappear, that he was going to wake up and it would all be a dream. He was choking on it.<p>

He could feel Kurt tensing in his arms; he knew he was kind of scaring him. Hell, he was kind of scaring himself. He didn't think he had cried like this, big fat tears and hiccupping sobs, since his dad left. He managed a few deep breaths and finally spluttered the first words that he could gather: "I don't deserve any of this."

Any other person would have jumped instantly into praise and reassurances. Kurt knew him, knew his shaky self-esteem, and knew the exact things _not_ to say when his fears and self-doubt crept to the surface. Kurt got up and padded to the bathroom, where Noah could hear water running. Kurt returned with the box of tissues, a cold, wet washcloth, and a bottle of ibuprofen. He held the tissues and washcloth out wordlessly, and waited while Noah blew his nose and wiped his face. He shook two caplets out of the bottle and waited while Noah swigged them down with water. Then he sat back down on the bed and said exactly the right thing: "Talk to me."

Noah sighed, and tried to organize his thoughts. "It's like, I've been such a fuck-up. I've hurt people. I gave my kid away. Stuff like this doesn't happen to guys like me. I've been nothing but a loser my whole life; why would the universe give me any of this? Why would the universe give me you?"

"You're not a loser, Noah. You're not that boy anymore. You did your best with the tools you had to get through to this moment. You've changed so much since high school; I know you don't always see it. I know you look in the mirror and see a scared kid, or the guy who was just _too young_ to raise a baby. But you're not that boy anymore."

"What if it all disappears?"

"It's not going to. I promise. And if it does, we'll deal with it together, because I'm not going anywhere. Okay?"

Noah let out another shaky breath. "Okay."

"Good. Do you want some cocoa?"

"Yeah. I think I'd like that."

"Okay. I'll be back."

Noah watched as Kurt filled the tea kettle and set it on the stove, got down two mismatched mugs and the canister of fancy cocoa he'd sent from the hot chocolate place in Cambridge they'd visited that first weekend together in Boston. He spooned the powder into the mugs, and rummaged in the fridge for both milk and whipped cream. When the kettle whistled, he filled the mugs with boiling water, stirred, and added a healthy splash of milk, topping both mugs with whipped cream. He carried them carefully back to the bed, setting them on the windowsill before he climbed back in. Noah pulled him close, breathing in the scent of his own shampoo and soap on Kurt's hair and skin. He was so tired, and so emotionally worn. He just wanted to curl up with Kurt and sleep it all away. Kurt turned and leaned into him, offering him a soft kiss that tasted of chocolate and cream. There were no demands in the kiss, just an offering of sweet peace. Noah sighed into the kiss, settled against Kurt, and surrendered to sleep.

* * *

><p>Noah's tires squealed as he made a fast right turn into the parking lot behind the station five minutes before his shift. He had been afraid he was going to be late; one more red light heading out of Lima and he would have been. He'd gotten caught up in the craziness that was the Hudson-Hummel Day Before Christmas Eve Open House and lost track of time. He grabbed his gear bag from the seat beside him and raced inside, hoping they wouldn't get a call right away because he absolutely had to talk to Jake. The station was, oddly, quiet. "Guys out?" he called to Jake as he headed through the kitchen and into the locker room.<p>

"Yeah."

"Who's out with them?"

"Tim and Alex. They were already out."

"I'll be ready in minute."

"Take your time. You're riding with me today; Matt is out sick."

"Sure he is. Sick of his in-laws, I'm sure. I've been listening to him complain about them for weeks."

"You're probably right. Poor guy. His wife's a total doll. Makes you wonder how someone so sweet can survive all that crazy."

Puck knew, but if Jake didn't then it wouldn't do him any good to even try and explain.

He had changed into his uniform, stuffed his street clothes and bag into his locker, and went out to the ambulance bay where Jake was getting started on their start-of-shift checklist. He jumped in to help, stowing extra sheets for the gurney and re-filling bottles of cleaner before he had swallowed the lump in his throat enough to talk.

"So, I, uh, heard back from Boston the other day."

"The job? Or the school?"

"Both."

"And?"

"I got into college."

"Jeez, man, stop stalling. The job. Did you get the job?"

"Yeah."

Jake was on him before he had time to blink, hugging him hard and ruffling his hair like you would with a little kid. "I knew you'd knock it out of the park. That's awesome, man. Is your guy excited?"

"Yeah."

"You don't sound too sure about that."

"No, no. Kurt's thrilled. I think I'm still kind of in shock."

"This is huge, Puck. You get to move to Boston and live with Kurt. You get to freaking leave Ohio. You are so going to rock all of it."

They finished their work in silence, and went back upstairs to wait for a call. One of the things Noah liked about working with Jake was that he never felt like he had to make small talk, but if he had something serious to discuss Jake would always listen. Matt was a pretty good partner, and had been a more than competent trainer when Noah was new to the squad, but he could talk your ear off if you let him. Despite the fact that Noah regularly talked about anything and everything with Kurt, those new communication skills didn't really translate into his work life. Which was why it took him the better part of two hours to work up enough nerve to ask the question that had been simmering below his ribcage for the better part of two days.

"J, how did you know? With Maggie? I mean, how and when did you know that you wanted to commit to her?"

"Are you thinking about it?"

"I think so. I mean, when we decided to be together, one of Kurt's conditions was monogamy. That hasn't been a problem. We've kind of been riding this rollercoaster, with the distance and everything. But now . . ."

"You're going to be in the same city, and you'll be living together at some point."

"Yeah. I've been thinking about maybe making things really official."

"Like a ring?"

"I haven't decided. Neither of us is really a ring kind of guy. And then I think that we're both still so young. Maybe neither of us is ready."

"Have you talked with him about any of this, or told him that you _want_ that kind of a commitment?"

"No."

"Do you think he would be open to it? To talking, I mean."

"Probably."

"Look, Puck. From everything you've told me, Kurt is it for you. You can ask him now, or you can wait, but if he's the one you want forever, it's just a matter of who takes the plunge first."

"He's the one. I've known it from the first day. I'm not sure of a lot in my life, but I'm sure of that."

"There's your answer, then."

"Yeah."

"Do we need to go ring shopping on our meal break?"

Noah just smacked Jake with the Sports Illustrated he had been paging through and told him "don't be a jackass."

The thought dogged him, though, through the rest of his shift, through his drive home to his apartment. Kurt had stayed with him the night before, but with the holiday craziness of the next few days, he was staying at his dad's house so he didn't have to keep driving back and forth. Noah was kind of glad that he'd have a little space to figure everything out. Jake was right, Kurt was it for him. But what would be the appropriate way to show him? What he'd told Jake was true, that neither he nor Kurt were the kinds of guys who wore rings. Or any jewelry, for that matter. But Noah had to admit, he could almost picture the way a ring would look, heavy and solid on one of Kurt's slender fingers.

* * *

><p>Kurt paced anxious laps around the island in the kitchen. The house smelled of the turkey and stuffing that was resting on the counter, and the rich scent of baked spiced fruit. He watched the timer counting down the seconds until he could take the pies out of oven, and wondered where Noah was. He'd called this morning, saying that someone else wanted to take some extra hours and he didn't have to work after all, so he'd come for dinner if the invitation still stood. But here it was, 15 minutes before dinner, and Noah was MIA. Kurt took another circle around the island, ran a hand through his hair, and straightened his shirt and jacket for the twentieth time since getting dressed. He listened to his dad, Carol, Finn, and their motley crew of dinner guests (mostly people his dad and Carol worked with whose work schedules and distances from their families prevented them from going home, and one of Finn's roommates who was stuck in Ohio because of a blizzard somewhere that had cancelled his flight) talking and laughing over appetizers in the living room. He had been too nervous to join them, and begged off saying that he wouldn't be able to hear the oven timer out there, and he didn't want to burn the pies. He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he didn't hear the back door open. He also didn't notice Noah until he felt strong arms wrap around him from behind.<p>

"Hey, handsome." Noah's voice was husky and his cheek cool against Kurt's neck.

"I'm glad you came."

"Me, too. How long till dinner?"

"Maybe 10 minutes."

"Do I have time to steal you away for a few minutes?"

He turned around and kissed Noah welcomingly. "I wish."

"C'mon. Take your pies out and come with me."

"Noah . . ."

"Don't Noah me. Nobody's going anywhere, and neither is the food. It's important."

He gave in, let Noah take his wrist and gently guide him out the back door and into Carol's garden. He motioned for Kurt to sit on the bench, and he took a seat as well. Kurt wasn't sure what was going on. He was starting to feel a little uncomfortable when Noah took his hand, took a deep breath, and started talking.

"I love you. I think I've loved you since before I knew what love really was. It just took me so freaking long to figure it out. You make me better. You make me a better friend and a better man, and you make me want things I never thought I could have. I want things for you, too, and I want us to have them all together."

Kurt was looking at him, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. He decided to lay it all out there, so he kept going. "I knew that first day that you were the only one for me. You're all there's ever going to be for me." He fumbled in his pants pocket, and cupped his hand around the ring he'd found in Dayton yesterday. He'd loved the design, and when the jeweler told him what it meant, he knew it was the right choice. "This can mean whatever we want it to. I just want you to know that I'm making my commitment here and now. I'm yours, forever if you'll have me." He opened his hand to Kurt, who took the ring and ran his fingers over the carved design of Celtic knots. He swallowed, and looked at Noah.

"Galway Bay," he said. "A complex relationship that's creative, intricate, and subtle. Fitting for us, I think." He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a pendant on a leather cord, which he pressed into Noah's hand.

'It's . . ."

"The same design. Yeah. You're not really a ring guy. But I've been thinking about asking you, and I wasn't sure . . ."

Noah reached up and pressed a finger to Kurt's lips. "Shh. Let me." He took the ring back and fumbled it in his shaky hands as he tried to get it on Kurt's finger. "Marry me. Someday, marry me. Or something."

"Of course." Kurt pressed his forehead to Noah's, and left delicate kisses on his nose and cheeks. "Yes. _Yes_. Someday I'll marry you. _Or something_." He helped Noah with the necklace, tightening the slides on the cord so that the pendant sat, tucked under his shirt collar just at the base of his neck. Noah was a little breathless with emotion and relief when he finally managed to stand. He helped Kurt to his feet and they walked, hand in hand, back to the kitchen.

* * *

><p>Noah helped him bring the serving dishes to the table and then held Kurt's chair out for him so he could sit down. After the turkey was carved and plates were passed and filled, Kurt's dad stood up. "We're not really a family that holds much with saying grace or whatever, but we are a family that sticks together. We have some new friends joining us this year and some old friends are here in new ways. Would anyone like to say anything before we eat?"<p>

Kurt gathered his breath and stood, raising his water glass. "If I may, Dad?" At Burt's nod, he began. "To new friends. To family." He looked down at Noah and smiled through happy tears. "To love and to new journeys." Before he could turn completely red, he sat down. "Nice job, kid." His dad smiled at him across the table as everyone began to eat.

Later, after turkey comas and warm pie, when all the guests had left and Finn and his roommate were elbow-deep in soap and dishes, Kurt led Noah into the living room. His dad and Carol were curled up together on the couch watching "It's a Wonderful Life."

"Dad? Carol? Can Noah and I have a minute of your time?"

"Sure, buddy. What's going on?"

Kurt took a few deep breaths, steadied by the gentle pressure of Noah's hand around his own. "We have some good news. Lots of it, actually. First of all, Noah's been accepted at UMass Boston, to start in January." He saw Carol start to react, a smile shining in her eyes, but he hastened to cut her off. "And he's been offered an entry-level job with Boston EMS."

"So you'll be moving to Boston?" Burt's voice was gruff, but kind. Kurt knew that his dad had really come to like Noah over the past year.

"Yes. I'll live in campus housing. I'm not even sure if we'll be able to live together until after Kurt graduates. You know, with his scholarship and everything." Kurt rolled his eyes. There was this pesky clause in his scholarship that required him to live on campus in order to have his housing covered.

"Well," Carol came over to hug them both. "I'm so happy for both of you. And Noah." She looked him right in the eye. "I'm proud of you. You're growing into a remarkable young man."

"Um, thank you." Kurt felt Noah start to squirm. "There's more."

Burt leveled a look at Kurt, who bumped Noah with his hip. He felt bad, but Noah had insisted that since _technically_ he was the one who had asked, it was also his responsibility to tell.

"I, um. This afternoon I asked Kurt. Um. I asked Kurt to . . . marry me . . . and he accepted."

Kurt could feel the stunned silence creep through the room. After a moment, his dad scrubbed at his face with his hand and said, more to himself than anyone else, "I had been wondering . . ."

"Wondering what, Dad?"

"It's just that things got serious really fast. I'm not that surprised, actually." Burt got up from the couch and pulled Kurt into a hug. "Congratulations, kid. I can tell he makes you really happy." When he released Kurt, he wrapped Noah in a hug as well. "You're good for my son, and I can tell he's good for you."

"Thank you."

Carol reached her hand out for Kurt's. "Is this the ring?"

"Yes." He started to say "what's really funny is-" when Noah interjected.

"I picked that out, and Kurt gave me this." He reached under his collar and produced the pendant. "We picked the same design."

"It's beautiful," Carol said and smiled at them. "Congratulations."

"Thanks," they said in unison.

Burt ushered Carol back to the couch. "Let's leave the kids, let them have some time."

"Thanks, Dad."

"Love you, Kurt."

"Love you, too, Dad."

Kurt responded to the gentle pressure of Noah's hand at the small of his back. He turned to him and asked "Do you have to go yet?"

"No."

"Good. C'mon."

He took Noah's hand and led him upstairs.

* * *

><p>Noah sat with his back against a pile of Kurt's pillows, legs spread, with Kurt nestled against his chest. He could feel the heat from Kurt's body through his shirt, which he had unbuttoned at the throat. He had his arms around Kurt, and they just lay there, entwined, listening to Ella Fitzgerald. Kurt kept trailing an absent finger over Noah's forearm, from wrist to elbow where he had rolled up his shirtsleeves. It was hypnotic, more than a little erotic, and just one of the many small intimacies that he loved so much. Over the last year, he'd grown accustomed to storing up these emotions, these sensations, and holding onto them to sustain him during the distance. That was a thing of the past now.<p>

"Did you ever expect this?" Kurt asked him. "When you came to Boston the first time?"

"Honestly?"

"Yeah."

"No."

"Neither did I. Before, I never would have dreamed that it would be you. And now, I can't imagine it any other way."

"So much has happened in a year."

Kurt replied by humming a few bars of music under his breath.

"What's that?"

"Just something I like. It's from _Rent_. It makes me think of you."

"Sing it for me."

Kurt's voice vibrated through Noah's chest as he sang softly. "_There's only now, there's only here. Give in to love or live in fear_."

"Is there more?"

"There's lot's more. The whole musical is full of things like that."

"Sing me something else. Please."

Kurt was quiet for a moment, and then he began again. "_I should tell you I'm disaster. I forget how to begin it. Let's just make this part go faster. I have yet to be in it. I should tell you, I should tell you . . . __Trusting desire- starting to learn; walking through fire without a burn. Clinging - a shoulder, a leap begins; stinging and older, asleep on pins. So here we go . . ."_

"Here we go."

"Mmm hmm." Kurt felt heavy against him, drowsy from food and family, and emotion.

"Here we go," he whispered again, as Kurt fell asleep in his arms.


	11. Chapter 10

Boston, Summer 2014

Kurt took a deep breath before leaving the relative comfort of the air-conditioned hospital lobby for the oven that was Boston in July. Even at 9 am, he could feel the humidity rolling in off the Atlantic and settling in the cracks of the city. It was going to be another nasty heat index day, that curious mix of high heat and even higher humidity that made Boston feel like a 115˚ steam bath. He stopped just outside the revolving door to remove his jacket, loosen his tie, and roll his shirtsleeves up to his elbows before moving on to stand in line at the coffee cart. His kingdom for an enormous, cold, blended caffeinated something with lots of whipped cream and chocolate syrup on top. He told as much to the barista, who knew him (and his order) on sight.

"Hey, Kurt. Rough night?"

"Amy." He nodded at her. "Wretched night. Can I have an extra shot in that, please?"

"Are you planning on sleeping any time today?"

"The verdict's still out. But I'm off tomorrow, so it doesn't really matter."

"Your man off too?"

"With any luck. Barring fire, flood, or someone with more seniority having Red Sox tickets."

"Planning anything fun?"

"Heh. Nothing that's any of your business!"

She handed him his drink. "I'll remember not to ask the next time I see you," she said with a grin.

Kurt took a deep sip and sighed as the caffeine hit his exhausted brain. "Thanks, Janie. Have a good one."

"You, too. I hope it gets better."

"Thanks."

He sipped at his drink with one hand and scrolled through his texts while he walked, making a turn to cut under the walkway that connected the Emergency Room to the rest of the hospital in an effort to shave a two blocks off of his walk to the T. He was oblivious, lost in his own thoughts and half a block past the doors to the ER when his phone rang out the opening harmonica riff to "Thunder Road". He answered before the third note.

"Hey, baby."

"Dude. Turn around." He did.

And there was Noah, leaning idly against the brick wall next to the doors, phone pressed between shoulder and ear, a bottle of Mountain Dew in one hand and a half-smoked cigarette in the other. His summer-issue uniform polo shirt was stretched across his broad chest and tucked into his navy blue cargo pants. He looked delicious. Except for the cigarette. Kurt pocketed his phone, crossed the street on a diagonal, and kissed Noah on his cheek. "I'm not coming near you when you have cigarette breath. I really wish you'd quit."

"And here I thought you'd be happy to see me."

"I am." He let his voice go quiet. "What are you doing here?"

"Eh. We ended up overstaffed, and I need the clinical hours. So it's ER for me today. I thought you were off at 6?"

"We had this kid." Kurt gestured to his wrists.

"I heard. I didn't realize you'd be working on that."

Kurt was spending his first internship working with the staff psychologists on the adolescent floor. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but it turned out that he was being given a more active role, especially in talk therapy sessions, than he had assumed would be the case. And when his supervisor had woken him in the on-call room at 3 am this morning, he certainly hadn't anticipated what would await him.

"Adam took my training wheels off last night."

"And you got the kid." Noah's voice was soft.

Kurt swallowed. "Yeah."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. Not . . . not here."

"Are you going to be able to sleep?"

Kurt shook his head. "Probably not. I'm going to head home, take a cold shower, and lay down in front of the AC."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"No. But seriously, it'll hold until you get home."

"I'm off at 7."

"Ok."

"K?"

"Yeah."

"I love you."

"Thank you." He pushed off from the wall, and let himself be pulling into Noah's arms for the briefest of seconds before he turned and walked away.

He took the subway three stops to the tiny one-bedroom he and Noah shared in one of the university owned apartment buildings. Kurt counted his blessings every day that Maria in Admissions had gone to bat for him with the housing office, backing up his application to put his housing stipend towards one of the off-campus apartments. Kurt still wasn't sure which of his reasons tipped the scales, but he was pretty sure it had more to do with the odd hours he'd be working at his internship and less to do with his fiancé's move to Boston. In any case, Noah had moved out of his UMass dorm room the same day that Kurt got the keys to the apartment, and they had existed in a haze of domestic bliss for the better part of the summer.

Kurt could hear the tiny window air conditioner in the bedroom wheezing when he opened the front door. He left all the lights off as he dropped his bag and jacket on the floor. As was his habit when he was physically or emotionally exhausted, he just let things stay where he left them, including the clothes he trailed through living room and bedroom on his way to the bathroom. He stayed in the shower until the water beating against his back had numbed his skin and turned cold. He toweled off as best he could, and pulled boxers and a tank top on over sticky skin. God, he hated the humidity. He wandered into the kitchen, absently opening cupboards and evaluating his food options. He disregarded cereal, toast, and even the not-so-secret stash of blueberry pop tarts that Noah kept hidden behind the boxes of pasta and rice. The refrigerator yielded practically the same results of nothing he felt like eating. It was, he knew, a holdover from his teen years when he would stop eating when he was stressed. He also knew that not eating really didn't solve anything and just made him cranky, so he finally grabbed a banana off the counter, sliced it into a bowl, and covered it with milk. Noah laughed at him when he did that, but there were times when he just wanted the cold of the milk and the sweet of the banana without having to deal with cereal. It helped take the caffeinated edge off his nerves, and muted the low-grade panic that had settled into his stomach when he had first seen the boy, bloodied and bandaged and soul-empty. He ate all of the banana slices and drank the milk, and set the empty bowl and spoon in the sink; he just couldn't deal with them right now. He went back to the bedroom, turned the TV on to whatever Noah had been watching as he got ready for work that morning, and flopped onto the bed. He angled his body so that he got maximum coverage from the AC, and recited Billy Joel lyrics in his head. He was halfway through "Down-easter Alexa" when he managed to relax enough to fall into a fitful sleep.

He dozed on and off most of the day, and awoke, if not rested then at least less jittery. It was still oppressively hot, much too hot to cook. He slipped shorts on over his boxers and stuck his feet into flip flops for the walk down the block to the Stop & Shop. He picked up a rotisserie chicken, some potato salad, and a deli container of plum tomatoes, mozzarella, and balsamic. A quart of strawberries and the vanilla bean Häagen-Dazs that was a luxury. Comfort food that didn't require cooking, and all of it things that would keep if Noah got hung up at the hospital. On a whim on his way to the register, he snagged a bouquet of tulips from a bucket. They looked happy and summery, and Kurt thought a little brightness in the kitchen would make him feel a little less like he was floundering.

Back at home, he sat on the couch and waited. Waited for Noah, and for the peace that he knew would come with confession.

* * *

><p>Noah had to admit, he was worried about Kurt. He'd heard from the night shift guys at the house about the kid, 13 or 14, covered in scars at various stages of healing, and the fresh, deeper cuts at his wrists. He'd thought the kid would have been taken to the pediatric psych ward on a hold, and maybe he had been. But he'd never expected Kurt to be involved. Not because he doubted his boy's skills, but because Kurt was a 20 year old intern in Psychology, not a med student or budding psychiatrist. He also knew that some situations hit Kurt really hard. He'd told Noah the first week that he could handle the Eating Disorder kids, and the kids with chronic illness, but not Oncology. He hated Oncology, and had admitted over a very illegal bottle of wine that had been a welcome to the building gift from the grad students upstairs that Oncology made him think of his mother. Kurt dealt with it all, though. Just the week before, Kurt had come home after a particularly good day and told Noah that he <em>loved<em> what he was doing. Which was why the hollow-eyed Kurt he had seen outside the ER was such a shock. He really hadn't seen that Kurt, that lost and empty boy, since the worst of the Karofsky situation all those years ago.

When he finally finished up in the ER, he walked down to the T and rode the same route that Kurt had earlier in the day. When he opened the front door, he saw Kurt sitting on the small couch they had gotten at a second-hand shop, staring off into space.

"Babe?" He put a gentle hand on Kurt's arm.

"Hey." His voice sounded hollow.

"Did you sleep at all?"

"A little. I got dinner." He motioned with his head in the vague direction of the kitchen. Noah could see the plastic container with a chicken inside on the counter, and he assumed the rest of the meal was tucked away in the fridge; neither he nor Kurt liked their chicken cold.

"Do you want to eat first?" He wasn't surprised when Kurt shook his head.

"No. I think I need to talk first."

"OK. Let me change first. Be right back." He headed to the bedroom, where he tossed his uniform into the laundry basket. He turned the shower to cool, jumped in and took the same kind of shower as he did at the station, using soap to wash up and shampoo his hair. He rinsed as quickly as he could, toweled off to where he could get clothes on, and was clothed and back in the living room less than 5 minutes after he had first turned the water on. He sat next to Kurt, tucked his legs under himself, and leaned his cheek against the back of the couch. "Talk to me."

* * *

><p>It had been building for a few weeks, and he didn't know how to tell Noah. He loved his work. <em>Loved<em> it in a way that surprised him, because really, the idea of dealing with kids who were sick and hurt had never appealed to him. He'd always thought that school counseling was where he wanted to be, but his supervisor had told him the first week that he had a real gift, especially with the kids who were really struggling. The ones in the eating disorder floor or the ones who were in group therapy for depression or self harm. Just two days ago over bitter coffee in the cafeteria, Adam had asked Kurt how he was able to see through all the crap the kids put out there. He hadn't even had to think through a response. "I was the master of masks," he'd said. "When you've worn them all, it's really easy to see them on other people."

He'd told Noah some of that, but there was so much more. He looked Noah in the eye, and began. "You know how I told you I'm really good at seeing the kids?"

"Yeah."

"It goes deeper than that."

"Okay."

"I understand them. I understand where those feelings come from."

"Okay."

"Have you ever just had so many thoughts and feelings jumbled up inside you that you didn't know what to do with them?"

"Yeah. That's when I used to torment people and break shit."

"Right. So you sent all of that out into the world. Not everybody does that. Some people just pull it all inside. It makes this kind of brick in your chest, and you feel like you're suffocating. Sometimes from sadness, other times from anger. And then there are times when you can't even identify it, but it's big and _there_ and it just _hurts_. Sometimes it feels like you're being crushed and other times like you're going to fly apart if anyone even breathes on you. And sometimes, the only way kids have to deal with that is to hurt themselves. To cut, or starve. Or to attempt suicide."

"Right. Those are the kids you like working with."

"Yes." He had to stop again, to gather his thoughts. "I used to feel like that all the time."

"But you didn't . . ."

"No. I got lucky. Glee happened at a time when I thought I was either going to die or go crazy. I got to sing. And Glee made it a little easier to come out. And then I wasn't suffocating anymore, and being able to breathe made it a little easier to get out of bed and face the world. But I understand where those feelings come from, and where those urges come from. There are still times I struggle with it."

"Like when you're stressed and stop eating."

"Excatly. It's a physical way that I can control what's happening when my emotions go crazy. It's a thin line in a lot of these kids, and I've walked that line so much myself, I just get overwhelmed."

"Did you ever think about . . . ?"

"You can say it, Noah. Did I ever think about suicide?"

"Yeah."

"No. Not in a concrete way. I could see the appeal, especially before I came out; I mean, sometimes I just wanted the feelings to _stop_, you know? But there was no was I would have ever done that to my dad. There are just some days when I think that if I hadn't found Glee, I might not be here. Seeing that boy this morning really kind of sucker-punched me in a bad way. I did his intake. He wasn't just a suicide attempt. He's been a cutter since he was 9. 9 years old, Noah. He's an honor student and a talented artist. And if his mom hadn't felt like something just wasn't right last night, he might have died."

He really couldn't even fight the tears. Noah shifted and held him. "I just hate that there aren't measures in place to help kids who hurt so much. It's got nothing to do with sexuality or anything; it's like we've taught our kids that feelings are bad, and bad feelings are even worse, and they shouldn't show their feelings unless they pretend to be all happy and bubbly, and there are all these kids who are _dying_ because they don't know how to handle the things they're feeling." He wiped his eyes on the hem of his tank top, and shifted again to look at Noah. "It pisses me off, and makes me sad. And that boy today broke my heart. He made me remember all of those days when I could have made a different choice."

"But you didn't. You got through it and you're here with me, and you can help those kids."

"Yeah. Thank you for listening."

"Always. How come you never told me some of that stuff before?"

"Because it's not the kind of thing you bring up in polite conversation: _yes, I understand the inclination to hurt myself even though I never actually did_. Kind of awkward. And it's usually so much in the past for me."

"That doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt just as much when it's not in the past."

"I guess."

"Promise me that you'll talk with me when a case gets you down, okay?"

"Okay."

"It just hurts me to see you like that."

"I know."

"Are you hungry now?"

"Maybe. I got ice cream."

"The good stuff?"

Kurt nodded. "And strawberries."

"Screw dinner. Let's start with dessert."


	12. Chapter 11

Kurt felt like a hypocrite. He'd been so good at drawing Noah out of himself, back at the beginning, and he'd watched with pride as Noah grew in his own self-awareness. He'd listened and offered thoughts and subtle advice, and held Noah when he cried, when he talked about the things that used to make him mad or scared. Kurt half-believed that if he just kept listening to Noah, Noah wouldn't notice that Kurt actually did very little talking about himself.

It had been surprisingly easy, really. Talk a little about the bullying, about losing his mom, about coming out and dating Blaine, and learning how to listen to his heart. Share just enough about the visibly difficult things, and just keep going. It was the internally difficult things that Kurt didn't know how to talk about. He'd never talked about them. That was the bad thing about masks, he supposed; when they were well-made and well-fitting, and self-imposed on a daily basis, you learned many things. During high school, Kurt had become a master at making it through the school day. He knew the best ways to clamp down on the knot of emotions in his stomach, how to school 'nobody knows I'm dying inside' under a sunny veneer of 'I'm fabulous!' and how to get through a day in the world before going home and collapsing. Back then, he liked to soothe himself with fashion magazines and Broadway cast albums. Now, he preferred baking. The motions of measuring and mixing, the warmth of the oven, the scents that made him think of safety and belonging.

He'd slept fitfully after he and Noah had finally finished dinner (and ice cream with strawberries). Usually the warmth of Noah's arms around him was enough to lull him to sleep, but he'd tossed and turned for the better part of three hours before deciding that he'd be better off getting up. He didn't want to wake Noah, and he needed to do something to soothe the slightly raw feeling of his nerves and the dull ache in his head. He pulled out his favorite cookbook, a bowl from the set of brightly colored nesting bowls by the stove, and scrounged for ingredients. There was a bag of mixed berries in the freezer, and enough butter and eggs for a coffee cake. Kurt turned the under-counter radio to the late-night call-in show that favored sappy '80's love songs, and hummed along under his breath while he worked. When the batter was mixed and the oven preheated, he sprinkled streusel topping in the bottom of the bundt pan and poured half the batter over it. He swirled in a layer of berries, then the rest of the batter. Put the pan in the over and set the timer, and then got to work on the dishes. That was where Noah found him at 2 am: up to his elbows in soapy water, lost in the motions of _scrub, rinse, and stack_ as the smell of warm fruit and baking sugar seeped through the apartment.

He hadn't heard Noah over the running water, but didn't startle when he felt a hand on his back.

"Rough night?" Noah's voice was thick with sleep.

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It happens." He shrugged his shoulders.

"Not since I've moved to Boston, it hasn't." Noah touched his arm, told him "Leave the dishes, I'll finish up later. Come sit with me?"

"Okay." He let Noah lead him to the couch and waited until Noah had settled in before tucking himself into the curve of Noah's body.

"What's going on, baby?"

"I just couldn't sleep. Talking earlier, it kind of . . ." He didn't know what to say, so he let his thoughts sit unfinished in the night.

"Kind of what?"

"It's like, I had put so much of that stuff, those feelings, in the past. It's not like I forgot they existed, I just forgot what they felt like, if that makes any sense."

"It does. Make sense. The dam kind of opened, didn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you ever tell me any of this?"

"I'm not very good at it."

"At talking?"

"Yeah. I'm a really good listener, though."

"I'd noticed," Noah said, kissing the side of his neck. "Don't ever feel like you have to hide from me. You know all my secrets. I'm safe with you, and you can be safe with me."

"I know that in my head, but that doesn't make it easy."

"Oh, baby. It's not supposed to be easy. That's why it sucks so much."

"That didn't help."

Noah was silent for a moment, then "What's loudest thought in your head right now?"

"That if people knew what I was really feeling, they wouldn't like me."

"Try again."

"It's true."

"The sentiment is true, but you're holding back, K. I see you, too, you know. And I see more than you think I do."

"Okay." Kurt took a deep breath, and swallowed around the fear. "If you knew what went on in my head, you wouldn't love me."

"_Oh, _baby, no. Never think that. Just tell me, what _is_ going on in that head of yours?"

"It's not constant. And sometimes it's different things. But I get sad, or scared, and I just hide it. I learned how to do it with the bullies, and after my mom died. Every day that I went to school afraid, or thought about coming out to my dad. You know how people always ask you how you're doing and you tell them things are great or whatever?" He felt Noah's nod against his shoulder. "Well, I learned to pretend because people don't want to hear that you miss your mom, or you don't know what to do about the crush on the high school boy with the piano lesson after yours, or you're hoping to get through the day without having to change your clothes three times before lunch. Putting on that happy persona was just part of my daily routine. It's exhausting."

"And now it's just a habit?"

"Pretty much."

So, what are you feeling right now?"

"Kind of adrift. I'm sad for that boy, and a little unsure of myself because I feel like I've let my biggest secret out into the world. I'm afraid you're going to decide that I'm too much work." Noah's arms tightened around him.

"You're never going to be too much work. I love you. I love all of you. That includes your secrets, and your feelings. And even your different faces you put on for the world. Do you know why?"

"No."

"Because all of it influenced who you are today. This is the you that I love, and if you hadn't had those experiences and feelings, if you hadn't learned to cope the best way you knew how, you'd be a totally different you. If that were the case, chances are that _we _wouldn't be here together."

"That makes sense."

"I know what it feels like, to hide. You've gotten me talking more, but there are still times when I just can't even do that."

Kurt thought about that, about the days Noah would come home from work or class and spend an hour strumming his guitar, or head almost right back outside for a run or a pickup basketball game at the park down the street. The nights he would come to bed hungry and wanting, when Kurt would let him touch and taste and fill until he was satisfied and sleepy. "We each manage in our own way, I guess."

"We do. But, K?"

"Yeah."

"We need to not close each other out _so much_. Make me a deal?"

"What kind of a deal?"

"That we won't hide so much. If it's a really bad day, just say 'Today was hard, can we talk?' or 'Today was hard but I don't want to talk'."

"I think I can do that."

"Good."

They lay wrapped in silence and each other then, until the timer on the oven went off. Kurt pulled himself off the couch and reached a hand out to help Noah up.

"Coffee cake?"

"No. Just take it out, and come back to bed with me."

"But . . ."

"But nothing. Come back to bed. Let me help you sleep."

"I don't . . . I feel too fragile."

"You're not fragile, K. Please."

Kurt gave in to the pleading in Noah's voice. Noah waited while he put the coffee cake on a cooling rack and turned off oven, radio, and kitchen lights. He followed Noah back to the bedroom and gave himself over to soft mouth, strong hands, Noah's body covering his, pressing him into the mattress. He relaxed into the hard push of Noah inside of him, felt Noah's breath heavy and hard against his chest.

"Open your eyes," Noah managed to gasp. "Trust me."

Kurt did, looking up into Noah's face. His eyes were full of love, of gentleness mixed with desire, of strength and tenderness. Kurt lost himself then, his body flooding with an odd combination of pleasure and sadness. He broke, crying and empty, into Noah's arms.

"It's okay," Noah soothed him, running a thumb over his cheek to brush away tears. "You're safe with me. Sleep now."

He surrendered to the warmth of Noah's skin against his own, the gentle weight of Noah's arms around him, the bright sting of the air conditioner cooling his sweat-slick skin. "Thank you," he mumbled into his pillow.

The last thing he heard before the world was lost to him was Noah's voice in his ear telling him _I'm not going anywhere._


	13. Chapter 12

Boston, Spring 2015

A/N: Song lyrics from Rent belong to the estate of Jonathan Larson. The extended lyrics from "Embraceable You" belong to the estates of George and Ira Gershwin, and are taken from the version of the song performed by Michael Fienstein on his 1987 recording, "Pure Gershwin". Noah's last line of dialogue is borrowed from The Sea of Light, a remarkeable book by Jenifer Levin. If you can find a copy of this out of print gem, it's totally worth reading.

* * *

><p>Noah was taking advantage of a lot of things on a startlingly sunny April Friday. The biggest one was the fact that Kurt had work for the better part of the day and Noah didn't. A free Friday was a rare find and he didn't want to waste it. He had the apartment to himself, so he began his day by doing the one thing Kurt hated: fixing himself breakfast and taking it back to the bedroom. He surfed the 'net while he ate his toast and drank his tea, then decided that if he was going to be pseudo-lazy he should at least be a little bit productive. He figured he'd get a jump on the sociology paper he had due on Tuesday. It was going to be a busy weekend. He had the day shift tomorrow and Kurt's concert with the Gay Men's Chorus was at night. Sunday was brunch with some of the chorus guys and then Noah had a study group for his bio class. He told himself that if he made it halfway through the paper, he could take himself out for the afternoon to lunch and, maybe, over to that secondhand music store that always had really eclectic stuff for cheap. He quickly lost himself in his work. He'd discovered since high school that he digested information quickly and easily and, while he wasn't the best writer in the world, he had a grasp of facts and nuances that made writing surprisingly easy. He still had Kurt edit for him, but the initial process of putting ideas to paper was a fast one. When he emerged the better part of five pages in, it was to the sound of his cell vibrating across his nightstand. Crap. He'd forgotten to take it off of vibrate after work last night. The caller id told him it was Kurt.<p>

"Hey, you."

"Noah. Good. What are you up to?"

"Working on that Soc paper. Maybe going out later. Why?"

"I have to work late."

"I thought you were off at 6."

"So did I. But I didn't realize I was on tomorrow's schedule, too, and I can't because of the concert, so I had to trade. I have to pull night duty, till at least 10."

"Crap. I'm sorry."

"Tell me about it. But it's my own fault for not realizing before, I've just been so distracted."

"It's okay, babe."

"Will it still be okay if I ask you for a favor?"

"Sure. What?"

"I need you to meet Blaine's bus."

Blaine. Bus. Oh, Shit.

"Oh, shit. That's _this _weekend?"

"You forgot."

"I forgot."

"I told you, I'd invited him for the long weekend."

The long Patriot's Day weekend that commemorated the start of the Revolutionary War and the battles of Lexington and Concord. Marathon weekend, meaning that the city would be teeming with runners, and virtually shut down on Monday. The Red Sox had a home stand and the Celtics were on the verge of making the playoffs again. Crap. Work was going to suck.

"I forgot. I've been so focused on your concert and all my shit for school. I'm sorry, babe."

"It's okay. But I need you to meet his bus. He gets into South Station at 4. I also need you to go up and see if Erica and Alice will let you borrow their air mattress. We can set it up in the living room, like when Finn came to visit."

As much as he didn't want to do either of those things because, well _fuck_ if he didn't really hate Blaine, he couldn't say no. Not when Kurt was going to have to work late.

"Sure. Don't worry. I'll take care of it. You think you'll be home about what, 10:30?"

"If I'm lucky."

"Okay. I'll entertain the guy, and we'll order Chinese for dinner late, so it'll be hot when you get home. You want your usual?"

"Please."

"You got it."

"Noah?" Kurt's voice was uncertain and yet full of relief. "Thank you. I love you."

"I love you too, baby. Relax. It's all going to be fine."

He hung up the phone and cursed at it. Damn Kurt's internship. Noah knew that part of what had drawn Kurt to Northeastern in the first place was the way the university incorporated experiential learning into the curriculum, the fact that multiple internships or co-ops were required. The only problem was that in order to complete all his internships and classes in the expected five years, he hadn't had a real vacation (not counting Christmas break) since returning to school for sophomore year. His first internship had been the heartbreaking one at the hospital, which had kind of been good for Kurt. It had almost broken Noah, though, watching his boy struggle with the memories and feelings from his teen years that still sometimes became too big to deal with. They were both dealing with it better, though. If Noah got home and Kurt was blasting _Rent_, or if he could smell something sweet baking before he even got the front door open, he knew it was a bad day. Those were the nights when, more often than not, he wouldn't push anymore, Kurt would find him, on those nights after the worst of the hurt had been let go in singing or baking, and whisper the leftover things to him in the dark.

Then, there had been fall classes for them both and Noah had finally finished all of his work for his EMT-II. That bump in status at work had arrived with a welcome pay raise and a little more flexibility in his hours since he wasn't the rook anymore. Now there was another internship for Kurt that would carry through till May at a residential school for kids with severe behavior and emotional problems. That meant that Kurt was on night duty rotation at least once a week. It was just Noah's luck that the schedule had gotten screwed up and that night was tonight. Oh, well. There really wasn't any use in being pissed about it. But now he had shit to do, so he figured he'd better get to it.

Blaine's bus was late, which wasn't a surprise. Getting into or out of Boston all weekend long was going to be a challenge. Noah killed the time with an iced chai from the Starbucks in the food court and the novel he had to read for his queer lit and theory class. He'd balked, but Kurt had insisted. "I know you're not gay, but take this class. Please. It's important to me." It turned out to be one of the best classes Noah had taken. This book, the last on the syllabus, was about two college swimmers and their coach. It was full of sadness and loss and recovery. It was so unlike anything he had read before. Every time he picked it up he fell into the writing and hated to put it down. He was so close to the end, he just let himself get lost in the lyricism of the words. And that was where Blaine found him, engrossed in his book at quarter till 5.

"Kurt texted and said you'd meet me, but I wasn't sure you'd show."

"No big."

"I know I'm not your favorite person, so thank you."

"You're welcome."

Noah was determined not to let Blaine get under his skin. He couldn't identify anything logical about why he hated the guy. He was pretty sure it was just that he had been Kurt's first boyfriend, which was kind of stupid and juvenile. He was going to be 21 in a couple of weeks; he was too old now to be jealous of something that had happened when they were all just kids, really.

"I don't know what you might be up for tonight. Kurt won't be home until 10:30 at the earliest, so we're going to order in late. If you want, we can have a snack or something and go out-"

"Actually, what I'd really love is a nap. I had a hell of a week. Would that be okay?"

"That's fine. Why don't we head back, then?"

Blaine was quiet on the train, and on the walk from the T stop to the apartment. Noah got him settled in the living room and closed the room off using the shower curtain they'd hung in the open doorway. He took the laptop and his Soc books and research to the kitchen table, where he worked in silence; he had the whole paper done except for his conclusion and bibliography when Blaine emerged, sleep-rumpled and foggy-eyed at 8:30 and his phone started beeping. He figured he'd deal with Blaine first.

"Do you need or want anything?"

"Shower. And coffee?"

Noah pointed through the kitchen. "Bathroom's through there, turn left. Can't miss it. Do you want caf or decaf?"

Blaine gave him an 'are you serious' look, and Noah said "Caf, then. I'll put a pot on. Kurt'll want some when he gets home, too." He got up to fill the coffee pot, a necessary skill for living with Kurt, who drank it by the pot even though Noah didn't drink coffee himself. Once he had everything put together and the filter was dripping, he turned his attention to his phone. A text from Kurt: _got done early, on my way. Home by 9._ Noah texted back a smiley face, and dug the around in the menu drawer for the Chinese one. With their busy schedules, and sometimes alternate shifts, they ordered a LOT of takeout. They hadn't had Chinese in over a month, though, so he had to sift through Thai, Italian, three pizza places, and Indian before he found the green paper of the China Palace menu at the very bottom. He went and stood outside the closed bathroom door and called to Blaine over the running water of the shower: "Kurt's on his way and we're getting Chinese for dinner. What do you want?"

Blaine's voice rose out of the noise without hesitation. "Egg rolls and kung pao beef. Fried rice."

"You got it."

He went back out to the kitchen, and dialed the restaurant. He recognized the young voice of the owner's middle school-aged daughter speaking carefully. "Thank you for calling China Palace, this is Mia." Noah liked Mia. She was sweet and spunky, the same age as his sister. "Hey Mia, it's Noah."

"Noah! You and Kurt haven't been in for so long!"

"I know, sweetie, we've been super busy."

"Do you need a delivery?"

"Yeah."

"Let's see. An order of teriyaki beef and chicken lo mein, no mushrooms or water chestnuts for you, and fried dumplings and moo shu pork for Kurt."

"Yup, but we have company tonight, so I also need an order of egg rolls and kung pao beef."

"Fried rice?"

"Of course."

"Okay. Hold on." Noah could hear her ringing the order into the cash register. "Your total is $33.17. Do you want to do cash or credit card?"

"Cash."

"You got it. Should be about half an hour."

"Thanks, kiddo." He could hear her giggle softly.

"No problem, Noah. See you soon?"

"Yeah, Mia, see you soon."

He pulled $40 out of the "takeout cash stash" in the tiny canister next to the toaster, and set it on the table next to the front door, and focused on turning the computer off and getting his books put away. He was just finishing up when Kurt arrived and Blaine finished in the shower. Blaine looked well-rested and casual in sweats and a t; Kurt looked exhausted but professional in khakis, a dark blue button-down and a blue and silver striped tie. He dropped his messenger bag by the door and almost fell into Noah's arms. "Food's on the way," he whispered into Kurt's ear. "Why don't you go and change?" Kurt nodded at him before turning away and giving Blaine a perfunctory hug. Noah could hear him say "Hey, you, thanks for coming" before he headed to the bedroom. Noah could hear him shuffling around, opening drawers and then running water in the bathroom. When he came back out to join Noah and Blaine around the kitchen table, he was in his sleep pants and one of Noah's ratty long-sleeved t-shirts. Noah poured coffee for Kurt and Blaine, and grabbed a can of Sprite out of the fridge for himself; he didn't care what the others did, but he needed to sleep that night. When the food arrived, they all dove in, using chopsticks and eating right out of the containers. When Noah was full, he tucked the flaps of his lo mein container closed, put it in the fridge, and tossed his chopsticks into the trash; he crossed the room and leaned down, wrapping his arms around Kurt and burying his nose in Kurt's hair. "I have work early, so I'm going to turn in. You staying up?"

Kurt's voice was threaded with fatigue. "Not too much longer. If I don't get sleep myself, I won't be able to sing tomorrow night."

Noah made his excuses to Blaine and retreated to the bedroom. He changed into a pair of sweatpants and listened to Kurt and Blaine as they moved through the kitchen, cleaning up from dinner and talking softly. He brushed his teeth and washed his face and crawled into bed, turning off the overhead but leaving Kurt's bedside lamp on. He was just on the edges of sleep when he heard Kurt's light click off and felt Kurt slide in beside him. Kurt's hand was soft and cool against Noah's stomach, and he relaxed himself into Kurt's embrace.

"I know he's not your favorite person. Thank you for meeting him."

"It was nothing."

"It wasn't nothing."

"You don't seem very excited to have him here."

"It'll be better tomorrow. All day, I just wanted to come home to you and let go of the day."

"Long one, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Do you want to talk?"

"Maybe later." He startled at the scrape of Kurt's teeth along his bare shoulder. "Right now I have other plans."

There was no talking later.

* * *

><p>Kurt wandered aimlessly backstage, trying to ignore the feeling of wanting to crawl out of his skin. It was his usual pre-performance feeling, but the fact that it was expected didn't make it any easier to deal with. He knew that Blaine and Noah were sitting out there in the seats he'd selected for them, between Eric's long-term boyfriend and Ethan's trick of the week. He knew they'd likely be sitting in silence if not actually shooting daggers at each other. And, after today, he had to admit that any daggers on Noah's part were justified.<p>

Kurt knew that Blaine was jealous of the happiness he'd found with Noah. He knew that while Noah would never say as much, his boyfriend harbored a secret fear that Kurt would someday decide Noah wasn't enough and he'd go back to Blaine. He knew that Blaine still had feelings for him. That had become painfully obvious over the course of the day…in the way Blaine had leaned toward him on the subway and looked at him with unmasked, dampened desire over lunch. It was the same way he had behaved in their Dalton days. It was kind of sweet, and kind of sad, and it had made Kurt really uncomfortable. Blaine had been his best friend for so long; they had a kind of shorthand honesty about things that was different from what he had with Noah. Even after their breakup, they had maintained an easy physicality that drove Noah crazy and, in hindsight, maybe hadn't been the best idea. And here he was, bouncing around worrying about Noah and Blaine and how to make it perfectly clear to Blaine that he was most definitely _with_ Noah when he should have been worrying about singing.

He finally found a quiet corner where he could close his eyes and block out the world. He remembered that first Regionals duet with Blaine, how it felt winning Nationals with his Glee family, and how comfortable he'd felt at his audition for this very group when he was a scared 18-year-old in a new city. He was so different from that scared kid. He'd passed his 21st birthday back in October and he was slowly becoming a man. He'd spent so much of his life singing; with his mom in the kitchen as a little kid, alone in his room after she died, in cars and in showers from Ohio to Boston, with people and alone. Whispered in Noah's ear the night they got engaged and belted out with hurt and anger when he'd had a terrible day. Tonight he'd be singing to Noah. "Just breathe," he said to himself as the ready lights flashed. He pushed away from the wall, joined his section, and walked proudly onto the stage.

* * *

><p>Noah tried to ignore Blaine's presence next to him, but it was kind of hard when the guy actually sighed when Kurt appeared on stage. He rolled his eyes, but didn't acknowledge the sound at all. Instead, he focused on the look of mild fear on Kurt's face. Noah recognized that face. It was the "I'm scared to death because I have a solo" face and that realization made Noah's heart sink a little bit; Kurt hadn't told him. He leaned over and whispered to Blaine, "did you know he had a solo?"<p>

Blaine looked dumbstruck. "He has a solo?"

The dude may have still been not-so-secretly in love with Kurt, but he sure didn't know him and the thought was more than a little comforting. He settled in with that thought as the lights went down and the concert began.

It was an odd mix of songs that sounded like something Mr. Schue would have put together. The first half of the concert was billed as "Standards", and Noah wasn't surprised to hear lots of Cole Porter and Gershwin, and some of the Broadway and movie ballads that Kurt loved. He let himself get lost in the music, in the joy of seeing Kurt so open and _free_, and then there he was, standing in front of the group as a piano started and Kurt's voice was soaring into the auditorium.

_Embrace me, my sweet embraceable you_

_Embrace me, you irreplaceable you._

_Just one look at you, my heart grew tipsy in me_

_You and you alone bring out the gypsy in me . . ._

Kurt's vocal range had filled out in recent years and it was clear and rich and sweet. Noah knew that the lights on the stage kept Kurt from seeing him, but it didn't matter. He knew that Kurt was singing to him, _for _him.

_I love all the many charms about you._

_Above all I want my arms about you . . ._

He could see where Kurt had his hands clasped in front of him and where his fingers absently rubbed over his ring. Then there were lyrics Noah had never heard, that cut his heart because they made this choice all the more perfect for Kurt:

_I try not to be so formal, my dear._

_Am I not a man who's normal my dear?_

Noah wasn't sure he even heard the end of the song because all of a sudden people were clapping. Blaine was cheering and Kurt was taking an awkward bow. And Noah was crying. Like a baby.

He composed himself in the men's room during the intermission, and sipped at a watery cup of ginger ale before returning to his seat for the second half, the "Contemporary" portion of the program. This was more to Noah's liking, Billy Joel and Elton John and an odd choice in Springsteen's "I'm on Fire" mixed with Celine Dion and still more Broadway songs. As the show was winding towards its end, Noah recognized the guitar riff echoing from behind the chorus as the intro to one of the songs from Rent and he puzzled at how that would work with a big group. Then Kurt was there again in the spotlight. He sounded so different, more rough and unpolished, and the raw emotion of the song was _oh god, so fucking sexy_.

_One song, glory. One song before I go, glory-_

_One song to leave behind._

_Find one song, one last refrain, glory-_

_In the pretty boy front man who wasted opportunity_

Noah had only ever heard Kurt sing along with his iPod; he'd had no idea that his boy was capable of _this_. He felt the scrabble of a hand on his arm and he turned to look at Blaine. His eyes were wide, his jaw slack, and he looked on the verge of crying. He looked like he was fighting heartbreak. Noah had to peel his eyes away, though, because here was his Kurt on stage, pouring himself into the throbbing of drums and the wailing of the guitar.

_Find one song, a song about love, glory-_

_From the soul of a young man, a young man._

_Find the one song before the virus takes hold, glory-_

_Like a sunset, one song to redeem this empty life._

God, he was so talented. And Noah loved him so _fucking_ much.

He was on his feet before the last strains of guitar faded away, clapping even as he pushed past Blaine and the two guys at the end of row in his rush to get somewhere where Kurt was going to be. His hands were shaking with how much he needed to touch Kurt, kiss him, tell him how insanely proud he was, how much he loved him. He knew where to find the backstage area and waited in the wings while the group sang their last song and took their bows. He tucked himself in a corner while the men filed offstage, until he could reach out and grab Kurt's hand. He pulled Kurt into a tight hug and whispered incoherently into his neck.

"Oh, god, K, do you have any idea what you did to me? You were… Wow. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wanted it to be a surprise."

"You killed me. The Gershwin? Made me cry."

"And the Rent?"

"Hot. So hot. I had _no clue_ you could sing like that. You might have broken Blaine, though."

"Yeah. I was a little worried about that."

"He's still in love with you, y'know."

"Yeah. I might need to deal with that tonight."

"That's a good idea."

"You know I love you, right, Noah?"

"Baby, I think the whole audience knows that. Or, they at least know that you love someone. You can't sing like that without love and passion."

Kurt blushed from his collar to his hairline. Noah laughed and turned him toward the dressing rooms.

"Go get your things, baby, we have some solos to celebrate."

* * *

><p>Kurt sat with Blaine on a bench at the edge of Harvard Yard. Now that the adrenaline of the performance had faded and he'd dulled his nerves with a Rum and Diet Coke over dinner, he'd decided it was time to have a showdown. He sent Noah home, telling him "don't worry, I'll be fine." But now he had to figure out what to say, how to convince Blaine that he was really well and truly <em>in love<em> with and committed to Noah.

Blaine still looked a little shocked, so Kurt reached over and put his hand over Blaine's where it rested between them on the bench.

"We need to talk, B."

"I know." Blaine was silent for a moment. "I guess you know I still love you."

"Yeah."

"And that I'm crazy jealous of what you have with Puck."

"He hasn't been Puck in a long time."

"Whatever." Blaine's voice was bitter in the cool night.

"He's it for me, B. I'm going to marry him someday. I've known it since he came to Boston that first time. And when you look at me like you did at lunch today, I just-"

"He's not even really gay, Kurt."

"I know. But it doesn't matter."

"It did when I went on that date with Rachel."

Oh, god, _that_ again? "We were 17, Blaine, and it's not the same thing at all. You were trying to deny who you were. I know exactly who Noah is. And he knows who I am. We come home at the end of every day and accept each other with all of our imperfections. I'm my best self when I'm with him and he gives himself to me every day. That's all I can ask."

"It just seems too perfect."

"Of course it does when you're outside of it. It's work, every day, and sometimes it sucks, and it's hard, but you get up the next day and try it again. And some days, you get it really right."

He felt Blaine lean back against the bench, and heard his gentle sigh. "You're so different. I came here expecting the same Kurt that left Lima. I mean, we haven't really seen each other in so long. But you're not that boy. I loved that boy, but I realized tonight, watching you sing, that you're a man now."

"We're both men, B. Can we be friends as men?"

Kurt heard Blaine sniffle, and then he said "I don't know. We can try. That's about all I can do right now."

"It's a start." Kurt stood up off the bench and held his hand out. "C'mon, let's go home. It's been a long day."

* * *

><p>Noah must have dozed off. His light was still on, the TV was flickering softly through the late news, and his book was lying, closed, on his chest. That's right, he'd finished it. It had been so beautifully heartbreaking that he'd just closed his eyes to think about it. And, clearly, taken a nap. The sound of the front door opening and closing had woken him, but he figured he'd wait for Kurt to come to him. He didn't want to interrupt whatever might be going on with Kurt and Blaine. He was surprised to see Kurt's face appear around the doorframe so quickly. His voice sounded tired.<p>

"Hey, you. I'm going to make some tea. Do you want a cup?"

"Yeah. Want help?"

"Only if you want. You look cozy."

"I finished my book, then I fell asleep. You guys all good?"

"I think so. I mean, we will be."

"Good. I'll be right out."

Noah found Kurt leaning against the counter spooning sugar into their mugs while he waited for the kettle to boil. He wrapped one arm across Kurt's chest and pulled him back into a hug. He rested his chin on Kurt's shoulder.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

"And Blaine?"

"I think he'll be okay, too. You know, sometimes being an adult really sucks."

"I know. But we get through it. We always do."

"Thank you for that."

Noah turned Kurt in his arms and kissed him softly. "You're the person standing in this little room of my life with me. I'm lucky and grateful for the company and the love."

"I'm lucky, too."


	14. Chapter 13

Memorial Day 2016

Kurt secretly loved going to Noah's work gatherings. More often than not, they were some kind of cookout/sports free-for-all at one of the many local parks that dotted the city, tucked into corners between apartment buildings and under bridges, organized by the EMS guys Noah worked with, and sometimes cops and firefighters they knew from fires and accidents, domestic calls and hospital hallways. And all of them, the guys and their wives and kids, or girlfriends, reminded Kurt of where he came from, the kinds of people he grew up with. The one thing he'd never been able to reconcile since starting college was the assumption that because he was at a pretty pricey private college, his family was rolling in money. So many people had campus jobs, they never thought that his work-study was anything more than a way to stay in take-out, iTunes downloads, and drinks or clubbing with friends on the weekends; it was viewed as something he wanted to do rather than something he had to do. His family wasn't struggling, that was true, but a family with two kids in college couldn't help but be a little stretched. And there had been many a lean year when he was a kid, after his mom died and there were medical bills left to pay and a little boy to raise on a single salary. Kurt had started working with his dad early that first spring after his mom died. Babysitters just didn't fit the budget, so he'd go to work with his dad. Eight years old, sitting on a stool and watching everything his dad did. He'd help clean up at the end of the day, and earned a little pocket money for it. When he was tall enough to actually see and reach and work without the aid of a stool, he'd started working on cars. Appearances to the contrary, Kurt wasn't afraid of hard work or of getting his hands dirty. He learned fast, and worked quickly and with an attention to detail that amazed his dad. The older he got, the better his work was and the more of it he did (often as a way to get out of his too-loud head after the hell of a school day), the more he got paid. He learned where and when to shop for the clothes he wanted, scouring eBay and a two great consignment shops in New York and Chicago that did a web business, searching almost daily for quality designs cheap. He wore the mask of an upper-middle class upbringing well enough to fool people, but the truth was that Kurt was a blue collar boy at heart.

Which was how he found himself here, talking cars with Noah's partner Greg, and watching Noah play football with a group of kids. He'd aligned himself with the smallest ones, a motley tumble of the under-eight set who were brazenly taking on a handful of bigger and faster pre-teens. Kurt had been pleasantly surprised at the first Christmas party to discover that none of Noah's co-workers had an outward problem with their relationship. Noah had introduced Kurt that night as his fiancé, and since then he'd always been included, not just by the guys but by their wives and girlfriends as well. It was comforting, in some way, to know that he and Noah had people in their corner this far from home. And that was another reason why Kurt loved coming to these things. The police/fire/EMS community in Boston was, indeed, like a little family. As time went on and he and Noah settled more comfortably into their relationship, he was finding that they had more in common with this family than with either of the communities at Northeastern and UMass.

"He's good with the kids," Greg was saying, watching Kurt watch Noah, who had picked up a tiny girl in a pink sundress to fly her and the football through the air to the soccer goal that was serving as the end zone.

"Yeah. He is. He likes kids. He . . ." Kurt let the thought trail off, not knowing whether to say anything about Beth. It was something Noah kept close to his chest, something he really only even talked to Kurt about after the monthly letter and pictures from Shelby arrived. He knew that Noah kept Beth's most recent picture in his wallet, a precocious fair-skinned, dark-haired girl grinning at the camera with Quinn's smile and Noah's eyes.

"His daughter. Yeah. He told me."

"He told you." Kurt sighed in something akin to relief. "I'm glad. I wasn't sure if anyone else knew."

"He never talks about her, but one night there was this call, and he . . . well, you know how he can get sometimes."

"Yeah."

"Anyway, he seemed like he was in a bad way, so I kind of pushed a little bit." Greg grinned at him sideways. "I can be kind of an ass sometimes. Trina tells me I don't always know when to let things be. But anyway, I pushed hard, and he pushed back. Pulled out this picture of him, young, with this little baby. He told me that her name was Beth, that he and his high school girl had given her up, and that's why he hated the calls with little girls, and if I ever mentioned it again he'd kill me." Greg took a pull on his bottle of Corona. "I don't doubt it, either."

"Neither do I." Kurt wasn't surprised. "There's a lot from back then he's still hanging on to. I think that's kind of why he likes playing with the kids at these things."

"He'd be a good dad, you know."

Kurt wasn't sure what to say about that. "Maybe. Someday. We're still, um. Young?"

Greg leveled a Look at Kurt. "No you're not. Neither of you. Agewise, yeah, you're still young. But I know guys in their forties who aren't as secure in their marriages as you guys are."

"We're not married. Yet."

"Please. You may as well be. Not that it's any of my business. You've made the commitment, and just between us, that guy isn't going anywhere."

"I know." The thing was, Kurt did know. "I'm not going anywhere, either."

"Good." Greg bumped him with his shoulder. "Looks like your guy and his midgets are getting trounced. I think I'm going to go help."

Kurt stood there for a while, lost in thought and memory, enjoying seeing Noah so relaxed and happy. Then he went over and started helping set up the picnic table buffet; it smelled like the grilling was almost done. Greg's girlfriend Trina came over and gave him a big hug. "Hey baby, how are you?"

Kurt genuinely liked Trina. She was a preschool teacher, cute in a petite and overly bouncy kind of way (Kurt supposed that came from wrangling three year olds every day). She lived not far from Noah and Kurt ("when I'm not shacked up with Greg," she'd whispered to Kurt one night when they'd met for coffee when the guys were working an overnight, "but don't tell my mom. She'll be at Mass before you can blink. She's a Good Catholic."); the two of them had started a Friday night tradition of finger food dinners with ice cream for dessert in front of '80's teen angst movies whenever Greg and Noah had the night shift (which seemed to happen at least three Fridays a month, not that Kurt was keeping track or anything). Today, though, there was a different kind of glow underlying her bouncy.

"Oh, dear God," Kurt whispered to her as she pulled away from the hug, "don't tell me you're preggers."

Trina smacked him, and then waggled her hand in his face. "Bite your tongue. This is better."

"Engaged! Finally!" The ring was simple and lovely, a small diamond set flush into a scrollwork-engraved silver band. It was so very Trina. Kurt leaned in and hugged her again. "I'm so happy for you. Now we can add bridal magazines to our Friday nights."

"No. No. If you do that, I'm never coming over again."

"I have to live vicariously through someone. When Noah and I finally do the deed, I highly doubt we'll be going all out."

"Do you want a big wedding?"

Kurt was silent for a moment, and was startled when the words just tumbled out of his mouth. "No. Actually, I don't. I think I just want to get married. No fancy anything. But," he worried at his bottom lip with his teeth, "I don't know what Noah wants. Other than getting engaged, we haven't talked about it. It's like this big thing that's just out there, a theoretical someday and something. For when we're older, and done with school."

"Oh, honey, just talk to him. It's not like anything bad is going to happen. You're already engaged. You both did the asking, which is the hardest part. Everything else is gravy." Trina leaned into him the way Noah did sometimes, so he wrapped an arm around her. "I'm kind of jealous, you know," she admitted.

"Of me?"

"Of you and Noah. What you share. It's like you're both so comfortable in your own skins, and with each other. It's really sweet to watch."

"It's taken us both a long time to get here. Neither of our journeys has been easy. We're both a little broken."

Trina nodded against his shoulder. "I think we're all a little broken, but we have to hide it to get around in the world, y'know?"

"I do. And that's why I'm grateful every day that I can go home to Noah and let the wall down."

"How did you get to be so pensive? I though we were celebrating my engagement?"

"I tend towards the maudlin. You should know that by now."

"Ah, yes. The angstier the teens, the better the movie, right?"

"Indeed." Kurt moved his arm from Trina's shoulder and gave her hand a squeeze. "I'm hungry. Let's go get our men and get something to eat."

* * *

><p>Noah found Kurt later, sun-warmed and full-bellied, napping on the blanket they'd brought. He was stretched out on his back, arm behind his head, a pale sliver of taut stomach visible between the hem of his black t-shirt and the waistband of his jeans. He had earbuds in his ears, and his iPod was resting on his chest. Noah stretched out next to him, taking in the smell of cut grass and cool breeze and the coconut tang of Kurt's sunscreen. Kurt woke at the motion, looking up at Noah with sleepy eyes.<p>

"Hey," he yawned. "The sun always makes me want a nap."

"Having fun?"

"I always have fun at these things. It's like going home, y'know?"

Noah smiled. He liked hearing Kurt say that. "I do."

"This, more than anything, makes me feel like I'm not so far away."

"Far away from what?"

"From home. From myself."

"I feel like I'm not getting something."

"Oh, it's not that big a deal. I was just thinking today that I feel more comfortable at these things with your work people than I have anywhere else in public since coming to Boston. I like that they accept us for who we are, and that they're like family. And that I don't have to pretend here."

"Pretend what?"

"That I'm not some kid from middle of fucking nowhere Ohio. That I don't know how to work hard. That it's only through a lucky combination of scholarships and loans and magic financial aid formulas that I'm here at all, instead of at Ohio State still sharing a room with Finn." He looked up at Noah then, a half-sad smile on his face. "I like that I can talk cars with Greg and the guys, and then walk across the park and talk fashion and cooking and decorating with the girls, and nobody looks at me sideways. Nobody cares here. Do you realize how unusual that is?"

Noah hadn't, and said as much. He supposed that he was lucky. The guys at work really could have cared less. Most of the people he went to school with were like him, working teens and adults, many of them putting themselves through school, doing it piecemeal a class or two at a time while holding down jobs and managing families. At the rate he was going, three classes a semester and one each during the two summer sessions, he would finish the same time as Kurt. He didn't have a lot of friends at school, and he never really felt the way that Kurt did about how others saw him. Not anymore, at least. Not since finding Kurt.

Noah watched Kurt wind the cord from his ear buds around the iPod and tuck it away in one of the pockets of his messenger bag. He got kind of caught up in it, in the way Kurt moved, the way the sun filtering through the leaves glinted red in his hair and flashed off his ring. When he came out of his head, Kurt was looking at him. "Where did I lose you?"

"Oh, nothing. I was just watching you. There are some times when I feel like I'm seeing you for the first time." He loved the way Kurt blushed, how it crept slowly from his collar up his neck before spreading quickly over his cheeks.

Kurt looked up at him, eyes clear and open. "You amaze me every day. I'm so lucky to have you."

"I think we're both the lucky ones."

"I think you're right."

* * *

><p>Kurt sometimes forgot how long these things would go on. After the cookout, there was more football, and soccer. He sat with Trina and some of the other significant others and watched little kids, and grown men who were acting like little kids, run around the field getting grass stains and skinned knees. When it started to cool down, when kids were covered with sweaters and bug spray mingled with sunscreen, when everyone was wind-worn and slightly sunburned, there were marshmallows roasted over banked coals, and s'mores made adult with gourmet dark chocolate and small-batch marshmallows from a local bakery. Noah pulled out his guitar, and there were old folk songs and classic rock, an odd medley of "Puff the Magic Dragon" and some Bill Harley and Raffi for the kids ("they were easy songs to learn when my sister was a kid," Noah told him later, when he asked). Sometime during the singing, the very young son of one of the firefighters wandered over to where Kurt was sitting next to Noah on their blanket. He unceremoniously plunked himself in Kurt's lap and leaned his head into Kurt's chest. For such a small boy, he was remarkably solid, and Kurt adjusted around the unexpected weight of him. Noah began the opening chords of a John Denver song Kurt recognized as being insufferably sad. Most of the grownups were silent, listening, and Kurt decided to let his voice rise to join with Noah's. He hadn't been singing all evening, because it was so rare for Noah to sing in public anymore and he wanted Noah to have the stage. But the song spoke to him, soared through him.<p>

_There's so many times I've let you down, so many times I've played around._

_I tell you now, they don't mean a thing._

_Every place I go I'll think of you, every song I sing I'll sing for you;_

_When I come back, I'll wear your wedding ring . . ._

When they finished, Noah cleared his throat and looked at Kurt with tears at the corners of his eyes. When he looked down and saw the little boy, eyes closed and tiny pudgy hand in his hair, asleep in Kurt's arms, his face went unreadable. He hustled to put his guitar away, and Kurt knew that the ride home would be silent. He also knew that once they were home, he'd coax whatever it was out of Noah with words and music, taste and touch, hands and heart. He stood up, redistributing the little boy, and carried him back to his parents. "I'm sorry," his mom whispered. "He really likes music. I think your boyfriend's guitar interested him."

"It's okay," Kurt whispered back. He turned to walk away, and then turned back. "Foster that interest in music. It might just save his life someday." He gave her a rueful smile and a little shrug. "It saved mine, at least, a lifetime ago."

Noah wasn't with his guitar, or their things. Kurt finally found him along the edge of the trees, where a tiny spit of the ocean was barely visible, but close enough to waft salt-heavy air over them. He closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms under Noah's from behind and resting his cheek against the broad planes of Noah's back. He didn't say a word, just waited.

When Noah finally did talk, it was just three words, heavy with something Kurt couldn't identify. "Take me home."

The apartment was musty and warm after having been closed up all day. Kurt ushered Noah into the shower, and joined him after he'd opened the windows to get a nice cross breeze. He found Noah, head resting against the wall, silent tears mingling with water and shampoo suds. He slid a soap-slick hand across Noah's stomach, hooked the other into the curling edges of his hair, and pulled his face down for a light kiss.

"Whatever's going on, I'm here when you're ready."

Noah didn't kiss him back, didn't say a word. Kurt had his head under the spray, rinsing out his conditioner when Noah's strangled voice floated through the curtain of water.

"Seeing you, with that kid."

"Made you think of Beth?"

"Actually, no. For the first time in a long time."

"But?"

"It made me want things. Things I don't know if I'm ready for. If _we're _ready for. There are days when I feel like I've lived a lifetime, and others when I feel like I'm still a child, and when we're together I have all these plans and thoughts, and I get scared because sometimes the feelings are too much."

"Like what?"

"Like the sun in your hair makes me want to take you to bed. The way you twist your ring makes me wish we were already married. And seeing you with that little boy made my heart absolutely ache to see you with our kids. And that really scares me because here I am, planning our lives away when they've barely begun."

"The first we can take care of as soon as we're both clean and relatively dry," he told Noah with a wink. "As for the others, let's talk about them after you take me to bed."

* * *

><p>Noah let his leg drift over and wrap around Kurt's as he rolled up onto his side and propped his head up with his hand. He ran a finger over the curve of Kurt's neck, reached up and brushed his hair from where it fell into his eyes, slightly curly and sticking up in places. He was almost surprised to hear Kurt speak; Noah was usually the first one to talk after sex, if it was a talking after sex kind of night.<p>

"Marry me."

"I already asked, and you already said yes."

"I'm serious. Come with me to city hall tomorrow to get the license. We have to wait three days, but it's good for 60 days. That gives us a little time to figure things out."

"You're really serious."

"Yes. I want to marry you. We've already committed to each other. We've done the hard stuff. This is the easy part, and I want it."

"I want it, too. Maybe on a beach, or in a park. Something romantic."

"Noah Puckerman, a closet romantic. Who knew?"

"You did, always you."

"A beach? I could live with that. Should we have a reception? Invite people?"

"I dunno. Can we talk about it later? Having you naked in the bed is a little distracting."

* * *

><p>In the end, it wasn't in a park or on a beach. It was on a cloudy June Friday at City Hall, with Greg and Trina standing up for Noah, and Kurt's supervisor-turned-mentor-turned true friend Adam and his partner Luke standing up for Kurt (witnesses weren't a requirement, the city clerk had told them when they went for the license, but both of them wanted someone there to record the affair). The grooms wore, as they often did for dressy occasions, black dress pants and black shirts. Trina used Kurt's phone to snap a series of pictures, which Kurt immediately sent to Carol (and later posted on facebook). The wedding party went for a celebratory dinner downtown, and then sent the newlyweds off in a rented limo to a hotel for the night. When they returned home the next day, the phone rang off the hook with congratulations from their families in Ohio, and from their family of friends in Boston. There were flowers, and a delivery from a local bakery of a very fancy and very decadent chocolate layer cake with a tiny two-groom cake topper that made Kurt smile. That night in bed, there was the very first in what would become a long series of talks about the future, about what would happen when they graduated next May and where and when children might begin to fit into the picture.<p>

Monday morning after his class, Noah went down to human resources and changed his city paperwork. All it took was a copy of the marriage certificate, and his signature, and the beneficiary on his life insurance and his city pension was now Kurt Hummel, relationship: husband. As he left the office, he fingered the hammered silver band he'd picked out for his wedding band. He'd been worried that it would take time to get used to wearing the ring, but it was warm against his finger and he felt like it had always been a part of him.


	15. Chapter 14

July and August 2016, Boston and Lima

Noah found out he wasn't going to be able to take Fourth of July week off like he had planned. It had nothing to do with his work schedule and everything to do with the fact that he had finally worked enough hours as an EMT-II to start working on the classes and clinical hours for his paramedic's certification. He could take the intensive class in July and August, and not only would the city pay for it, once he passed he'd be able to get academic credit through the university. Which meant that he didn't have to take a second summer class. It was a good thing all around, he told Kurt that night over dinner.

"It means that the worst of the crazy will be over and done with while you're hanging out in Lima, and then I'll be able to come out like we had planned for that last week in August and then we'll fly back together."

"It also means that you won't be able to go out there at the beginning of the trip with me," Kurt kind-of snapped at him while poking holes in a broccoli stalk with his fork.

"I know. And I'm sorry about that. But the paramedic thing? It'll make things so much better. Even if I can't get promoted right away, it'll give me a leg up for a new job if we move next year. You know, for your grad school."

Kurt just stared at him. Okay, so maybe mentioning grad school hadn't been his best idea. "Forget grad school," he finally said into the silence. "If we decide at some point to leave Boston, being medic certified will be a good thing for me. And getting it out of the way while you're out of town will be good. For you, I mean. So you won't have to worry about me when I'm in class or working. Because I know you do. Worry about me." Shit. None of this was coming out the way he meant it. He _really_ needed to stop talking.

"You're a big boy. You can take care of yourself. And you're right. If I were here, with nothing to do, I'd be bored. If I'm in Lima I can see friends, and help my dad at the garage. But . . ."

"But what?"

"It's silly."

"What is?"

"I'm kind of afraid to go home alone. Because all anyone is going to want to talk about is the wedding, and why we did it the way we did, and does it feel different, and all of that. And I don't want to deal with it. It was our choice, and we did it the way we wanted, when and why we wanted to, and no, it really doesn't feel any fucking different."

"Except now I can cover you on my health insurance," Noah said around a mouthful of chicken breast.

"There is that."

"See, even when you're pissed off I can still make you laugh."

"I'm not pissed off. Just disappointed. And not at you, before you think that. It's circumstance, and it sucks."

* * *

><p>It just seemed wrong to Kurt, unpacking the detritus of your adult life into your childhood bedroom. That's where his dad found him as he pondered some kind-of unfortunate high school fashion choices that were stuffed in the back of his closet.<p>

"Hey, kid."

He watched his dad, shuffling in the open doorway, kind of hovering but not wanting to intrude. "Do you want something, Dad?"

He wasn't expecting what he got, which was his dad crossing the room and crushing him into a hug. When he was finally released, his dad motioned to him to sit next to him on the bed. "Come sit, and talk with me a minute."

"O-okay."

"I haven't had you here in so long. Humor your old man, okay?"

Kurt sat, crossing his legs under him.

"Are you okay? Are things going alright? Is Noah treating you okay, 'cause if he's not I'll break his legs."

"Dad. It's fine."

"I'm just asking because he was supposed to come with you, and you seem . . . annoyed. Or something. You don't seem right, in any case, and I know you guys got married and all, but I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"We're fine. It's just, he had this opportunity come up to take the classes he needs for his Paramedic certification, to do it in an intensive, and there are at least twenty reasons why it's a good thing, reasons that start with the city paying for it and getting academic credit for school, and end with the certification being something he can take with him if we end up moving after graduation. He wanted to be here with me. We wanted to be here together. But I wasn't going to ask him to turn this down. It makes this time hard, but it will make life after this time so, so much better." And it would. Kurt wasn't lying. He'd lived through certification classes before, and it was hell. Long hours in class, longer hours doing ride-alongs and ER clinicals, and all of it on top of Noah's regular classes and work.

"Are you sure?"

"Actually, I am. I'm sad that he's there and I'm here. I can't lie about that. But he'll be out at the end of August. It'll be okay."

"You know, I'm really proud of you. You're growing into the kind of man I'd always hoped you'd be. I wish that Carol and I could have gotten out there for the wedding, but we understood why you wanted it the way you did. And despite what I know you think, I'm not mad at you for not waiting. When things are right, there's nothing wrong with taking that step. You and Noah are the same age your mom and I were when we got married, and I never, ever regretted doing it young."

"You've just always seemed sad to me, though, like there was more you wanted for your life before Mom. And me. And me being gay."

His dad actually looked like he had broken. He grabbed Kurt again and pulled him close. "Don't you ever think that. God, Kurt. I had so little time with your mom, and I feel like I wasted so much time with you. But don't ever think that your being gay was a disappointment to me. It hasn't always been a situation I would have picked for you, but you've become so strong because of it. And I'm so proud of you for living your life honestly and openly."

"I feel like I should be too old to need to hear you say that."

"Kurt, you'll never be too old for me to be proud of you."

* * *

><p>Kurt kept running into people in the weirdest places. First it was Mike Chang at The Lima Bean. Then Quinn at the Rec Center pool. Tina at Walgreens. But nothing beat literally walking into Mr. Schue in the produce aisle at Safeway. He had kept up with all of the Glee kids, but hadn't spared Mr. Schue a second thought, really, since getting to college. He knew that Noah had been friendly with him for a while, but after Noah moved out of Lima, they just hadn't kept in contact.<p>

"Kurt?" Mr. Schue sounded surprised. Whether that was at Kurt's presence in Lima or his attire (khaki shorts and a Boston EMS t-shirt), he couldn't be sure, but he turned away from the bananas and smiled at him.

"Mr. Schue. Fancy meeting you here."

"How are you? Are you all done with school?"

"No. I have one more year. I'm in a five year program."

"That's right. Northeastern University?"

"Yeah."

"Did I hear through the grapevine that Puck moved to Boston as well?"

"Yes. Noah moved out there coming up on three years ago now."

"You see him a lot?"

Crap. Mr. Schue must not have been in touch with _anyone_ from New Directions.

"Um. Kind of. Look, I'd love to catch up, but could we do it over coffee? This really isn't the place to have this conversation."

"I'd like that. Are you busy tonight? 7 at the Lima Bean?"

"Sure."

And that was how Kurt ended up sipping an iced latte while sharing a table with Mr. Schue. He was having fun watching the high school girl behind the counter making gooey eyes in Mr. Schue's direction. "Is she one of yours?"

"Unfortunately."

"Unwanted advances?"

"If only. The unfortunate part of it is that she's terrible at Spanish. She keeps looking at me like that even though I made her repeat the class in summer school."

"Oh."

"I take it Boston is treating you well."

"It was a really good fit. I never thanked you for that, for helping with the college process."

"I just wanted so much for all of you."

"I like to think we're living up to the challenge. Do you keep up with anyone from Glee?"

Mr. Schue looked kind of ashamed. "Not really. I did with Pu- _Noah_- for a while, but it got hard after he moved. The last I heard, Rachel was killing it at Tisch and Finn was getting along at Ohio State."

"Oh, Mr. Schue, you've missed so much."

"Please, Kurt, I'm not your teacher anymore. Call me Will."

"Okay. Um. Will." The name felt funny in his mouth. "Let's see. Most of the gang graduated in May. Rachel's making the rounds of auditions, and is paying her way by teaching singing to the private-school set in Manhattan. Tina's going to Brown in the fall for a Master's in Teaching. She wants to be a History teacher. Mike's heading to Japan to teach English. Quinn's doing something with finance. Artie's going to CalTech for an Engineering Master's. Brittany got a degree in Early Childhood Ed, and a job teaching preschool in Denver. Santana majored in Sociology; she had some connections somewhere, and scored an entry-level job with some government agency. Lauren is going to law school at Berkeley. Sam has another semester at Penn State. In his last email, he talked about taking off on a road trip after he finished, checking out the surfing at some of our nation's finer beaches. Mercedes is waiting tables and trying to break out her singing and songwriting. She's exhausted but happy. Finn has one more semester at Ohio State. He's talking about proposing to his girlfriend." He shook his head. It seemed so trite, distilling all their struggles and brief successes down to a list like that.

"And you?"

"Psychology. My focus is on child and adolescent development. I'm probably going to end up doing educational or counseling psych in grad school."

"And you see Noah a lot?"

"Kind of." Will had clearly been living under a rock if he hadn't heard _anything_. "He'll finish UMass Boston in May with a Biology degree. He's working on his paramedic certification."

"He's happy?"

"Yes." Kurt looked down at his hands, loose around his plastic cup; he wore the Celtic ring on his right hand, and his wedding band, the same hammered silver as Noah's, circled his left ring finger. Will's eyes followed his own, and settled on the scrollwork on the Celtic ring.

"That's lovely."

"It's my engagement ring."

"I didn't know you had someone."

Hold onto your sweater vest, Will Schuester. "I do. It's Noah, actually. We've been together three years, and were married in June."

"Oh, Kurt! I had no idea! Congratulations."

Kurt was kind of surprised to see that Will's good tidings were genuine. They had never been easy around each other the way Will had been with the others, even after Kurt's return to McKinley. "I'm so happy that you found each other. I always had the sense that Noah was struggling with something, I just couldn't quite figure it out."

"Yeah. Well." Kurt was feeling really awkward, like he'd said too much for the degree of intimacy he and Will had never shared, but he pressed on anyway. "It surprised me, too, but things are going really well." They were interrupted by the bleating of Will's cell.

"Shit. I-"

"Where's the fire?"

"Summer Glee rehearsal. The kids all have jobs, so we have to practice late. You should come with."

"Thanks, but no."

"Really? It would be fun. You could meet the kids, talk to them about life after Glee."

And tell them what? That being a grownup sucked, and that sometimes coming home was harder than leaving ever was, and that leaving Lima and reinventing yourself didn't solve any of the things about yourself that you hated; it only made you hate yourself more for lying to everyone. And that sometimes, the best thing that happened to you came from the place that had tried to break you. Those kids didn't want to hear the truth. They wanted romance and stories about best friends and skipping class to watch soaps, and breakfast in your pajamas. They wanted shiny popular lives, and Kurt didn't have the heart to shatter those dreams. In his reality, shiny was the little apartment and the secondhand couch, his music mingling with Noah's. It was laundry and cooking, sharing fare cards for the T, and texts about whose turn it was to stop for milk and condoms. It was working hard and building a life, and morning sex if they both had Sunday off. It was everything, and it was nothing at all. And he just didn't know how to communicate that. His face must have said it all, though, because Will interrupted his thoughts.

"We rehearse every Tuesday and Thursday from 8:30-10 in the choir room. Stop by some night. If only to show off as one of the kids who won Nationals, okay?"

"I'll think about it," he said into his latte.

"Please do."

Will's hand was heavy and warm on his shoulder, the kind of gesture that would have shocked Kurt when he was 17 but seemed normal in this new, pseudo-adult world of his. It felt wistful, like a relic of a past life, a hazy half-memory of something that had not quite happened. It was sad. It was, Kurt knew, Will's way of wishing him well and of saying goodbye, because they both knew that Kurt wouldn't be stopping by Glee rehearsal any time soon.

* * *

><p>Noah could hear the loneliness and fatigue in Kurt's voice, felt it echoed in his own. With two weeks left, and the worst of his class yet to go, he was thinking that maybe this whole extended time apart thing hasn't been anyone's best idea. But there was nothing they could do about it now except soldier on. They were almost done.<p>

"You should do something fun this weekend," Kurt told him over Skype on the fourth Friday night. "Call Lily. Go out dancing or something."

"Yeah, maybe." Lily was in Noah's class; they had bonded that first day after Noah had recognized something Midwestern in her words as they talked over their resuscitation dummy, something odd in this land of _pahk the cah_. She worked out of a station in South Boston, looked like she kicked ass and took names on a daily basis, and treated Noah like he was her long-lost younger brother. He didn't care about any of that. It was just nice to have a new friend. "Going dancing isn't as fun without you."

"Still. Just do something. Get out of your head."

Noah was pretty sure that "getting out of his head" hadn't meant being lined up at bar in Southie, going shot for shot with Lily and the guys from her house. It certainly hadn't meant throwing a punch when one of the guys in the bar called him _fucking faggot_ after overhearing him telling Lily about Kurt. And it definitely hadn't meant stumbling home in a haze of bad booze and unshed, heartbroken tears, hand aching and stomach roiling. He wanted to call Kurt, to tell him how much he loved him and how he'd never felt as exposed as he had in those silent moments in the bar, the man's accusation hanging in the air. He wondered if that's how Kurt always felt as he waited for action to follow words, losing a little more of himself as he tried to pretend that the same tired insult didn't sting as much now as it had the very first time.

He wanted to call Kurt, but didn't. He didn't want to wake him or worry him. Rehashing it would do no good. It was over, and it had changed him. He just needed to shut it away and get on with things, focus on finishing class and getting out to Lima. He let all his need and want and fear wash away under the hot spray of the shower. And then he closed himself off behind his uniform, behind _Puck_ and _Badass_ and went to work.

* * *

><p>The Noah who fell into Kurt's arms in baggage claim wasn't the Noah he'd left six weeks ago. His face was hard behind a mask of something that looked like pain. His eyes were dark and empty. When Kurt held him, he could feel muscles tense. And yet, he didn't say anything. Instead, he gathered the luggage and directed Noah to his dad's car. Only after they were settled in for the drive, air conditioner blasting and radio silent, did he ask "What happened? And don't you dare tell me nothing. It was that night you went dancing with Lily, wasn't it? And don't ask me how I know. You sounded different on the phone."<p>

"I just, there was this guy at the bar."

"And?"

"He called me a fucking faggot. And then I punched him."

"Oh, Noah." His heart broke just a little. He'd been living with the teasing and the slurs for so much of his life that he couldn't remember a time when he hadn't heard them. He had built up a thick skin because he'd had no choice. Noah had no such defense, so he had clearly done the only thing he knew to preserve himself: he'd gone back to being bad boy Puck. Kurt reached over and took his hand gently. "I'm sorry. Sorry that you had to hear that, and that I wasn't there with you."

"What were you going to do?"

"Talk you down, for starters. Hold you and let you cry. And then tell you what to do the next time it happens. Because believe me, there is always a next time."

"And what do you do?"

"Well. Let's see. 12 year old me developed that little persona that became known as 'ice queen bitch'. Your Badass Puck is a pretty good option, too. What you have to remember is that your fear or hurt or anger is what gives them power. If you look through them, act like you're better than they are, they get nothing from it and come off looking stupid. It hurts, don't get me wrong. It always hurts. But that's why you have a shell; it protects you from the hurt until you're somewhere safe. And the most important part is to never, _ever_ let them see you cry."

"And what? You just forget like it ever happened?"

"No. Not the first time. You'll always remember the first time, because it's like it takes your innocence. My first was the dad of this boy on my street. We used to play together all the time in elementary school, tea parties and house and dress up. He was a kind of quiet boy, shy. He liked to read. I don't think he was gay, just, well, my dad always called him sensitive. Anyway, one day I was leaving his house and I heard his dad talking to his mom in their kitchen. He said 'I don't want my boy playing with that little queer.' I had no idea what he meant, but I knew like I know my own reflection that it was a bad thing. I never went over there again."

"How old were you?"

"Seven." He heard Noah gasp in a breath. "No. Don't you _dare_ feel bad. Another person's homophobia is not something we can control. It's a terrible thing, and it's meant to break you down. But you _can't_ let that happen. If that happens, they win. And then where will we be?"

"How did you get to be so accepting?" Noah leaned his head back against the headrest.

"I'm not accepting. Frankly, it pisses me off. And if I'd been there, I'd probably have taken a swing at the asshole too."

"I'd pay money to see that."

"Hey, I'm pretty good. My dad taught me, when I first started getting hassled at school."

Noah breathed a half-laugh. "So what? I just become Puck every day when I leave the house?"

"No. You'll start to learn where your safe places are. Wear Puck as much as you need him, but please, let him go when you come home. Because the Noah I love doesn't need that mask with me."

"I'll do my best."

They sat in silence, watching cars and road signs and late-summer fireflies flickering along the roadside.

"Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"I really missed you."

"I missed you, too."

* * *

><p>Kurt had spent the better part of the summer agonizing about what would happen after graduation. But that night, wrapped in Noah's arms as the soft scent of Ohio summer wafted through his open bedroom window, he had all the answers he needed. His home was where Noah was. It didn't matter if it was their apartment, or his old bedroom in his father's house. It could be Boston or Ohio, or anywhere in between. As long as he had Noah in his bed at night, everything would be alright.<p>

"I can hear you thinking." Noah's voice was gritty and muffled in Kurt's hair. "Stop it."

"You can't."

"I can. I haven't been able to do this-" Kurt squirmed as Noah kissed the side of his neck "-in six weeks. We have a lot of catching up to do, and the talking part can wait until morning."

"But-"

"As long as you promise to always come home to me, the talking part can wait until morning."

"I promise," Kurt said into Noah's waiting mouth.

"Tell me again." Noah was pressed against him, heavy and hard and breathless.

"I promise." And then he was gone.


	16. Chapter 15

Boston, May 2017

Their lives were kind of in chaos, their apartment a maze of packing boxes. They had two sets of relatives in two different hotels in two different parts of the city (Noah's mom Leah and his sister Lizzie downtown, and Burt and Carol in Cambridge), and Finn sleeping on Alice and Erica's air mattress in the living room. There were two dinner reservations, one for Saturday night to celebrate Noah's graduation with all the relatives, Greg and Trina, and Lily and her boyfriend of the week and a second for Sunday night to toast Kurt's graduation with the relatives and Adam and Luke. There was what seemed like the last available U-haul in Boston reserved for pickup at 8 am Monday morning, and an appointment with the landlady to pick up the keys for their new apartment in Somerville at noon. But right now, there was a little bubble of solitude in their room. They had gone out with their families for an early dinner, and then sent everyone out to the movies so they could be alone at home. It was barely dusk, the fading daylight dancing shadows on the walls and a slight breeze through the open window cooling Noah's skin where he wasn't wrapped up with Kurt. There had been some wine with dinner, and Kurt was flushed and warm and lazy. If pressed, Noah would have to admit that he was slightly buzzed as well, and more relaxed than he'd been in two weeks. They were halfheartedly touching, hands lingering at the edges of clothing, content enough in each other's space that there was no urgency and no real need to do anything beyond just being there together.

"I'm proud of you, y'know." Noah murmured against the back of Kurt's head.

"Thanks," was Kurt's whispered reply. "I'm proud of you, too. Did you tell your mom?"

"No. Did you tell your dad and Carol?"

"No. I want it to be a surprise."

The surprises were that they were both graduating with honors. Noah's B.S. degree would be awarded Cum Laude, and Kurt had received the letter that morning informing him that his thesis would be receiving Summa Cum Laude honors. Noah was insanely proud of him, and more than a little pleased with himself, if he was being completely honest. He'd never thought much of his academic prowess, even though he knew he wasn't stupid. He was proud of the fact that he'd put himself through school, and that he'd done well while balancing work and school. And Kurt. Always Kurt, because the reality was that he'd have none of the good things in his life if it weren't for Kurt.

It had been a grueling slog these last months for both of them, made more difficult by the added pressures of what to do after graduation. Kurt was sort of forced into grad school, because he needed a Master's degree to be certified for any kind of school or mental health job. Noah wasn't totally tied to Boston; that had been the whole point of getting his paramedic certification. But he liked the city, liked the people he worked with. He was making friends. And their marriage was legal. That ended up being the biggest selling point for them both, so when the time had come Kurt had applied to grad programs in counseling psychology at BU and BC. BC had come through with a fellowship that would cover his tuition and provide a housing stipend in exchange for Kurt's being a TA for Intro to Psych and Child Development. Noah was going to ride the seniority list and hope for a promotion to Paramedic, and think about what to do with his Biology degree.

A classmate of Kurt's was moving back to Virginia after graduation and was vacating the apartment she had lucked into as a sophomore, a two-bedroom with a decent kitchen and a sun-filled living room just inside of Somerville, second-floor digs in a three-story building. She had put them in touch with her landlady, who hadn't blinked when Kurt had introduced Noah as his husband. She liked that Noah was an EMT, and when Kurt told her what his stipend would cover in terms of half the rent, she said that she would discount them if they were willing to help with some of the small things that needed doing that she couldn't do herself. They signed a two-year lease that would start June 1st. Kurt was going back to work at Children's for the summer. They had a date with some of Kurt's chorus friends to watch the Pride parade, and plans to go to Provincetown for a long weekend in July as well as plane tickets for an abbreviated Ohio visit right before Labor Day. It was shaping up to be a pretty decent summer, but first they had to make it through graduation weekend.

Noah startled at Kurt's cool hand under his t-shirt. "Sometimes I feel like we've lived a lifetime together already," Kurt said, sliding up along Noah's side to rest his head on Noah's arm. There were still times when Noah marveled at how much he loved the feel of Kurt's body against his, all lean muscle and smooth angles, strength and hidden vulnerability. He often wondered how he'd ever thought that he'd be happy making a life with a woman, and told Kurt as much. Kurt nodded against his arm, babbled something about degrees of sexuality that Noah still didn't totally get. Noah kissed him to shut him up, and then held him close as they fell into sleep.

* * *

><p>The weekend passed surprisingly quickly. Leah cried prideful tears when she heard "Noah Isaac Puckerman, B.S. in Biology, Cum Laude", and she was thrilled to learn after the fact that Carol had snapped a full compliment of pictures of the big moment. Carol turned to Kurt afterwards and asked "Did you know about that?" Kurt just smiled and nodded. Dinner was a celebratory affair with champagne and dessert for everyone, and then a walk along the harbor before the parents went back to their hotels and Finn walked ahead of Noah and Kurt from the T while they dawdled, holding hands like middle schoolers.<p>

At Kurt's ceremony, Burt turned to Noah and asked him what the yellow tassel around Kurt's neck meant. Noah feigned ignorance, and watched with a smile when his boy crossed the stage. "Kurt Ethan Hummel, B.S. in Psychology, Summa cum Laude." Burt gripped Noah's hand until Noah felt the tiny bones crunching, and when Noah got a good look at him, he could see his father-in-law's eyes were brimming with unshed tears. Afterwards, Burt wrapped his son in a bear hug and told him how proud he was. Just like he had grabbed Noah the day before, and told him the same thing. There was another raucous dinner, with still more champagne and some delicious chocolate cake. Kurt made sure that they both shared the spotlight, and Noah thought that it felt really nice to be a part of two amazing families.

* * *

><p>Of course moving day turned out to be the hottest day of the spring, a record-breaker for the first of June with a high in the mid-90's. Kurt didn't care what the temperature actually was. Hot was hot, and was especially so when you were carting boxes and furniture up two flights of stairs. He worked with Carol and Lizzie and Leah unpacking boxes while his dad and Finn did the carting. At some point mid-afternoon, the law student from upstairs brought down some cold sodas as a welcome-to-the-buildingmoving-when-it's-hot-sucks gesture. They worked like dogs all afternoon, stopping around 6 to devour two large pizzas and a tray of still-warm brownies the landlady had brought up, and kept going until every last box was empty and broken down, waiting on the landing to go out with the recycling. Kurt hadn't dared to hope that the place would look like a home the first night, but _oh my Gaga_ it was so much better. It was a home that his family had helped create.

The Puckerman women and the Hudson-Hummel clan were, as fate would have it, all on the same Boston to Columbus flight the following afternoon. Plans were made for returning the rental truck, and meeting for an early breakfast. The parents and siblings walked out together, making noises about stopping for ice cream at a place they had seen on the drive in to the neighborhood. Finn was teasing Lizzie, and Carol and Leah were leaning together, talking like sisters. Kurt watched his dad walking behind everybody else, hands in the pockets of his shorts and a smile on his face. It was a good feeling, family. He lingered on the stoop, watching the little group disappear around the corner into the darkness. The air had started to crackle the way it sometimes did this time of year, full of electricity and unshed moisture. He heard Noah's footsteps coming down the stairs, heard him pull the front door closed behind him. Without the light from the entry way, the porch was dark save for the dim reflection of the streetlight across the way. Noah set his iPod in its portable dock on the railing, and handed Kurt an almost-cool bottle of water. "Sorry it's not cold. But it's better than warm."

Kurt uncapped it and took a swig. "It's fine. It's wet. Thanks."

"We have a good family." Kurt could hear the emotion in Noah's voice. "It's been a good weekend."

"It has. And I was just thinking the same thing, about family."

"We're lucky," Noah said, pulling Kurt into him. They were both sticky with sweat and dirt, but Kurt didn't care. He rested his head against Noah's chest as the sky brightened with lightning. Kurt listened for thunder to follow, but when it didn't he assumed the storm was too far somewhere for it to matter, maybe further west or out over the ocean. He was surprised, then, to smell the odd mix of salt and cut grass that signaled rain. He heard the fat drops splattering on the pavement, felt the air cool around him. He turned to watch it fall, but Noah held him close. "Dance with me," Noah whispered as he reached over to turn the music on. It was an older song, something left from their childhood, from some animated movie Kurt had never bothered to see. The music was low so as not to interrupt the neighbors. Kurt relaxed into Noah's arms, guided by the gentle pressure of Noah's hand at the small of his back.

_our lives are made  
>in these small hours<br>these little wonders,  
>these twists and turns of fate<br>time falls away,  
>but these small hours,<br>these small hours still remain_

Kurt thought about how happy he was, how the things he cherished and treasured in his life were so different from the things he'd always wanted and expected from himself back when he was in high school. He sent a silent not-quite prayer out to the universe, thanking the fates for giving him so much, even as he and Noah danced with the rain falling around them.


	17. Interlude: Faultlines

Fall, 2018

Noah can feel Kurt pulling away. He sees it in the stressed pseudo-smile on his face and the stand-offish tilt of his head. But it is most apparent at night when Kurt curls into himself in sleep, hugging the edge of the mattress. Their all too infrequent meals together are mostly silent; city budget cuts mean that Noah's been working 12 hour shifts instead of 8's, and Kurt's been spending late nights at the library working on his thesis. And when they are together, they fight about everything. Noah isn't sure when it all started, or even how. He suspects it just came on slowly, and now it's like they're stuck in this tornado of everything being bad and neither of them can figure out how to get out of it. And it hurts.

The apartment is dark and quiet when he gets home, and he thinks that maybe Kurt is still at the library, or out with some of his friends from class. But as he gets closer to the bedroom, he can hear water running in the bathroom. The door is open, and he pokes his head in. "I'm home, babe."

"Hey." Kurt's strangled reply is slightly muted by the water, and Noah struggles with whether to go in and check on him. It might make things worse. Instead, he stays, lingering in the doorway and asking "are you okay?"

"I'll be fine. Just . . . just give me a minute, okay?"

"Sure."

His heart sinks a little and he can't help wondering if he just gave up his last best chance at fixing whatever it was that had gone so drastically wrong.

* * *

><p>Kurt has been crying himself empty for weeks, steadying himself in the shower every night before joining Noah in bed, where he tries to make himself as small as possible. The worst part is that he's found himself falling apart at the most inopportune moments: on the train, at the supermarket, walking home from the T stop at night. And today, embarrassingly, when he had to excuse himself from class after unexpected tears fell onto his notebook and he ended up bawling in a bathroom stall. Something had to change, but he was at a loss. Finally, this afternoon he bailed on his study group and sat outside in the cool fall air talking to the one person he could think of who didn't have some kind of personal investment in his marriage: Mr. Schue. Will. It had been a spur of the moment decision born of desperation and the uncomfortable feeling that he was suffocating in his own head. As he had dialed Will's number with shaking hands, he hoped he wasn't making a colossal mistake. Thankfully, he hadn't.<p>

He'd spilled the whole sorry story: the fighting, the feeling like he and Noah were in such different places, the long hours of work and school. "Some days," he'd said, "I look at him and don't know who I'm seeing."

Will had taken the call with kindness and grace, and had told Kurt that sometimes things changed, especially since they had gotten together when they were still so young. Kurt had been surprised by his frankness: "Part of what killed my marriage to Teri was that we stopped seeing each other, and we didn't put the work in to find each other again. If you love him, don't be afraid of the work. And don't be so afraid of losing him _if_ you say something that you don't even try to fix things. Because then you'd just be letting him go."

"I love him. God, I _love_ him. I just don't know how we got here."

"Put the _how_ in the past. Focus now on working through this. And Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"You can always call me."

So of course Noah walked in on him losing it again, hiding tears under running water. He was almost hoping that when Noah heard him, heard the roughness in his voice, he'd say something. Anything. Acknowledge that things were bad or that they were both clearly hurting. But, like so many nights in recent months there was nothing. Kurt finished washing up and turned the faucet off. He toweled off, brushed his teeth, and ran a hand through his hair before taking a deep breath and heading into the bedroom. Something was going to change and even if it killed him it was starting tonight.

Noah was sitting propped on his pillows, glasses on and a book in his hand. Kurt turned off his bedside light and slid naked between the cool sheets. He snaked one hand along Noah's stomach, and choked out the only words he could think of. "I have no idea what to say to you. But something has to change."

Noah's reply was barely a whisper. "I know."

"I just don't know how to start it."

"Me neither."

"Do you still love me?" It hurt Kurt to think that he even had to ask, that he didn't just _know_ that Noah loved him.

"God, K. Of course I love you."

He took another deep breath. "Show me."

It was risky; they hadn't had sex in weeks, and even that last time Noah had been disengaged. But Kurt knew that if he could break down that mask of _Puck_ that he had been seeing more and more over the past months, maybe that would be a start. He needed to feel _something_ besides empty, needed Noah to feel something other than distant. If they couldn't connect with words, maybe they could connect this way.

* * *

><p>Noah relaxed into the feeling of Kurt's palm against his stomach. It was warm through the cotton of his t-shirt, and gentle with just the right amount of pressure. It felt familiar, but in a faded kind of way he couldn't quite touch. He had a choice to make. Kurt was offering him a start, a chance to try to find each other again. The only thing that kept echoing in his head was his mother the day after his father left, holding his skinny little-boy self in her arms and telling him that his father had been gone for a long time. Noah wasn't going to be that guy. He'd been fighting it his whole life, and he knew that if he didn't take what Kurt was offering then he would be no better than his dad had been. It was time to be a real man. He put his book down, took off his glasses, and turned out his light before turning to face Kurt.<p>

"I'm scared. I don't know where I went." That didn't even come close to putting a dent in the jumbled mess of his head, but it was a start.

"Let me help." Kurt's voice was barely audible, his hand toying with the hem of Noah's t-shirt. "Let me show you who you are, how much I love you." Noah could hear the unfinished thought of _even though I don't like you very much right now._

"Okay."

Acquiescence was all Kurt needed, apparently, because Noah had barely pulled in a breath before Kurt's hands were tugging at his clothes. He had to work to stay out of his head, to feel Kurt's hands and mouth, the length of his body against Noah's. The warmth of him, the beat of his own heart under Kurt's hand. "Stay with me," Kurt whispered in his ear before leaning in to kiss him. God, Noah tried. But he felt so numb. Kurt stopped, pulled away with tears running down his face.

"Damn you. Why can't you just let go?"

"Of what?"

"Of _Puck._ Where did Noah go?"

"I don't know. Please. Just . . . please. Keep going."

"Not until you tell me why you started hiding."

Noah could feel the words boiling, all the self-hatred, the doubt. The fear that he'd be stuck forever and that despite his best efforts, he was turning into his father. The bone-crushing anger that the things he'd worked for were lost in a haze of budget cuts. He didn't know how to start, and he was scared that once he started he wouldn't be able to stop. He turned away, pulled the sheet up over himself.

"If that's the way it's going to be, then, I think I'll go sleep on the couch."

Noah reached his hand out, blindly feeling for Kurt. "No. Don't. Please, just give me a minute." He took a few deep breaths, heard Kurt sigh behind him and settle back against his own pillows. And then he began.

"I'm not getting that promotion. The city has put in a hiring freeze, and that applies to promotions for current employees as well. And before you can ask, I found out in August."

"Noah-"

"Stop. Please just let me talk. So I'm not going to get Paramedic. And I can't do this job forever. You've got such a bright future, and I don't want to hold you back, but I also don't want to ask you to leave a future here to follow me. And I don't want you to think of me as less than anything or anyone. And I'm afraid that if I tell you what I want to do, you're going to tell me I'm exactly the last person who should be doing it. I don't want your world to get so big that I get left behind. And all these feelings just piled up and it was easier to hide than to say anything. I thought if I just sucked it up, something would change. But nothing changed. I'm still miserable, and now I'm hurting you."

"You're miserable with me."

"No. Oh. Kurt, no. I could never be miserable with you. I just hate that I've been hurting you, and I don't know how to fix it."

"What's making you miserable, then?"

"Work. This damn city."

"It failed you."

"It feels that way. And it makes me angry."

"And anger and fear and hurt make you hide. But you don't have to hide from me."

Kurt's hand was moving again, soft on Noah's hip. "Let me see you. Please."

Noah knew what Kurt was asking, knew that he was terrible at hiding himself during sex and that Kurt wanted it as a way to start to break the wall down. The chinks were there already. There was nothing left to lose, really. So he turned back to Kurt and kissed him, hard.

* * *

><p>In the end, it didn't take much; a well-placed touch, the whispered softness of a kiss on his shoulder, the soft slide as Kurt entered him. He kept his eyes open, saw all the hurt and anger and pain on Kurt's face, felt it in every movement. It broke his heart and sent him reeling. It was the most connected he'd felt to Kurt in months, and he told him so as they lay together afterwards. "I'm sorry," he told Kurt through the salt of his own tears. "Don't give up on me yet."<p>

Kurt's reply was heavy with fatigue and a bare hint of relief. "I won't. But there's a lot of work to do. Besides, you haven't told me what you want to do when you grow up."

"I'll tell you tomorrow. Just . . . don't stop fighting for me, even when it seems like I've stopped fighting for myself."


	18. Chapter 16

Providence, 2023-2024

October

The first invitation showed up in the mail on Kurt's birthday, a thick embossed envelope addressed to N. Puckerman and K. Hummel stuck between three birthday cards, one in Carol's delicate script, a second in his dad's careful printing, and the third in Finn's block letters. The postmark was from Lima, but he didn't recognize the return address. He sorted through the mail, placing Noah's pile on the kitchen table and taking his own pile over to the counter, where he opened his cards and discarded the envelopes. He still wasn't sure what to do with the invitation, so he propped it up against the candlesticks on the table and went upstairs to do some work. When he heard Noah's truck pull into the driveway, he rubbed a hand through his hair before heading downstairs to greet his husband.

He found Noah standing in front of the table, jacket on and briefcase by his feet, turning the invitation over in his hands.

"It's starting," Kurt said, nudging Noah with his hip. "We're turning 30. Our friends are going to start getting hitched."

"You didn't open it."

"I thought we should open it together. It is the first one, after all."

Kurt watched as Noah slid his finger under the flap and pulled out the invitation, reply card, and envelope.

"Who is-" he started to ask before he was interrupted by Noah's "Holy shit! It's Shelby!"

"Shelby's getting married?"

"Oh, man. I had no idea."

"Noah! Who's she marrying?"

Noah smiled, ran his hand over his face before turning to Kurt and reading "Please join us to celebrate the marriage of Ms. Shelby Corcoran and Mr. William Schuster on Saturday the 23rd of December at 1:00 in the afternoon at the First Unitarian Church in Lima, Ohio. Reception to follow at Breadstix Restaurant."

"Beth never said anything during your phone calls?"

"Neither did Shelby. What about Will?"

Kurt shook his head. "Talk about keeping secrets. I think we have some phone calls to make!"

Which was how they ended up in two different rooms on their respective cell phones. Will answered his phone on the second ring. "Kurt! Happy birthday! The big 3-0. How does it feel?"

"Oddly, exactly the same as 29. Except now everyone will respect me." He listened to Will laugh, and then interrupted. "You've been holding out on us. We had no idea you were even seeing Shelby socially."

"Yeah. Well. It happened slowly. We're both a little gun shy. But it's good. I mean, we're both past all that crap that happened in our thirties. We're both grounded. We have good jobs that we like. And we love each other. And," his voice hushed, "I love Beth. She's a great kid. I hope Noah won't mind my being a part of her life."

Kurt paused to gather his thoughts. "I think that Noah will be thrilled. He adores Beth, but she needs a father who is there, in her life every day. And he thinks the world of you. So do I."

The cell signal was fuzzy, but Kurt could hear the thickness in Will's voice. "Thank you. That means a lot."

"Congratulations to you both. Give Shelby and Beth both a hug from me."

"Will do, Kurt. And thanks for the call."

"You're welcome."

"Bye."

Kurt ended the call and pocketed his cell, and then wandered back to the kitchen where Noah was sitting at the table. His phone was tucked between his ear and his shoulder, and he was working hard at doodling on the back of the electric bill while he talked. "How about Algebra? Does Mr. Conant still make you share a desk if he catches you talking in class?"

Clearly, he was talking to Beth. Kurt put his hands on Noah's shoulders and leaned in so he was close to the phone. "Hi, Bethie." He could hear her muffled voice through the phone calling "Kuuuurrrrt! Thanks for that eBay link! I used my babysitting money and bought the cutest jacket!" Noah turned and held the phone out, sneering at Kurt.

"Would you like to talk to her? Apparently cute jackets are more interesting than Algebra."

"Anything's more interesting than Algebra, especially if Mr. Conant is involved." Noah just glared, but Kurt must have spoken loud enough because he could hear Beth giggling on the other end. He leaned over and whispered into Noah's ear. "I don't want to talk. I'll let you finish your call. I'll be upstairs. Take your time."

"Thanks."

Twenty minutes later, Kurt was leaning against the headboard of the bed, laptop propped on his knees typing up an evaluation on a new client when Noah poked his head around the doorjamb looking sheepish. "I'm sorry I was snappish. Sometimes I think she likes you better than she likes me."

"You're her father. She loves you. I just have a really easy to access inner thirteen year old girl. I'm fun, but you're important."

"I hope so."

"Never doubt it. How are they?"

"Happy. A little embarrassed that they didn't at least tell us, but they were afraid we'd spill the beans to everyone else. And Will?"

"The same. And also worried that he's going to usurp your position as Beth's father. He cares about you and about your relationship with her. You don't have to worry."

"I'll try not to. Do you have a lot of work to do tonight?"

"No. I just thought I'd get this out of the way while the client was still fresh in my mind. Do you have lots of grading to do?"

"Just some tests from Anatomy. Intro started on frogs today. I had two kids pass out."

"Lovely."

"Yeah. So. I made us a reservation for your birthday."

"Really?"

"Really. That place you like on Federal Hill. I'm not sure what it is with you and Italian food."

"I like that there's pasta and cheese. And wine. And dessert with cheese and alcohol." Kurt set the laptop on his nightstand and pulled Noah down onto the bed with him.

"I could just make tiramisu and get a nice bottle of red wine, and then we wouldn't have to go out," Noah said as Kurt reached around him to loosen his tie.

"I'll only turn 30 once. Take me out."

* * *

><p>They shared a half-bottle of red wine. Kurt ordered Chicken Florentine and Noah ordered penne with creamy pesto sauce, and they shared like they always did. For dessert, there was indeed tiramisu (presented with a single yellow candle). As they both dipped their spoons into the creamy layers, Kurt looked at Noah and asked him "when you started writing back to Shelby, did you ever think you'd get to be so involved in Beth's life?"<p>

"Honestly, no. I wasn't sure if Shelby would let me, or if Beth would even want to know me."

"Does it bother you that Quinn doesn't want to be involved?"

"No. That's her choice. I respect that. Did you ever think you'd be friends with Will?"

"No. But things happen. He was there for me when . . ." Kurt let his thoughts trail off. There was no need to add the words _we almost didn't make it_ to the end of that sentence.

But they had made it. It had been a struggle at home, and in the counseling sessions they started attending together (and the ones Kurt started going to on his own, which he didn't think Noah knew about, and he was honestly okay with that). It had taken the better part of a year of endless talking and learning coping mechanisms and some shorthand for their own triggers and relationship issues before their home life had settled back down. And in the end, one of the best things they had done (besides the counseling) had been to leave Boston. When Noah had come to Kurt one Friday with a printed email from Tina talking about her teaching, and about her MAT program at Brown, Kurt knew that it was time to think about moving. He'd helped Noah with his application and with prep for his GREs, and when Noah's acceptance letter had come in February, Kurt started looking for apartments and a job in Providence. He'd found one at a private pediatric psych hospital, where he worked in the outpatient clinic. He'd spent three years there before biting the bullet and going into practice for himself almost a year ago. Noah had thrived in his MAT program, and scored a job teaching Biology at a small progressive private school on the East Side, where he also advised the school's GSA. They had bought their house back in the spring, and it felt to Kurt that they were finally reaching an adult place in their relationship. It felt good.

"Where did you disappear to?" Noah's voice snapped Kurt out of his reverie.

"Nowhere important. Just memories."

"You okay?"

"Definitely."

* * *

><p>The second invitation came on Halloween. Noah knew immediately who it was for because of the trail of gold stars clustered in the bottom corner of the envelope. He carried it into the kitchen, where Kurt was putting treat bags together for the evening. He waved the envelope in Kurt's face and laughed gleefully. "I pity the poor bastard."<p>

Kurt looked up. "No shit. I never thought Rachel would ever settle down, but I met him when I was down in the city for that conference in the spring, and he seemed really nice. And patient."

"A necessary quality. What does he do?"

"Something banker-y. They met at a club."

"Whatev. Do you want to open it?"

Noah watched as Kurt pulled the thick stack of papers out of the envelope, and waited. Finally, after skimming the invitation, he spoke: "Ezra and Thomas Berry request the honor of your presence at the marriage of their daughter Rachel Eva to Mr. Robert Newsom on Saturday December 30th, 2023 at Temple Beth Israel in Lima, Ohio." He turned to look at Noah. "I'm surprised it's not in New York. I guess it's going to be a two-wedding Christmas trip."

"Oy vey."

* * *

><p>November<p>

Kurt had a late client, an emergency referral from one of the pediatricians Kurt worked with. The 14 year old girl had broken down to her during her annual well-check, admitted not only to questioning her sexuality but also to being bullied in school. It was the kind of situation that alternately pissed him off and broke his heart, and when the girl's mother had called that morning he'd made the decision to see her soonest rather than leave the family hanging until one of the open slots later in the week. The house was lit up when he got home, warming the darkness outside. He could smell something delicious cooking as he opened the front door and worked at unwinding his scarf and hanging his coat on the hook by the door. A glance at the living room told him that Noah had interrupted grading lab reports to cook. He called through to the kitchen "Luuuucy, I'm hoooome!" Noah appeared in the kitchen doorway, dish towel slung over his shoulder and glasses on, still in his work clothes with his blue oxford unbuttoned at the throat and untucked over his khakis. Hot. His husband was still hot.

"I left your mail on the table." Noah gestured with his head towards the small table that sat next to the staircase. It was where they left the important things that needed to go with them every day: keys, iPods, cell phones. And where they had started leaving each other's incoming mail. Kurt put his keys down and thumbed through it. It didn't look like much; a mailer from the Association of Child Psychologists about the following summer's conference in San Francisco, the renewal notice for the registration on his Subaru, and the new Land's End catalog. And, tucked between the catalog and Kurt's alumni magazine from Northeastern was a save the date postcard.

"Holy. Fucking. Shit. Did you look at this?"

"Sort of?"

"And? Holy. Fucking. Shit. Right?"

"Yeah."

"Should we go?"

"We've never been to a lesbian wedding. Think of it as a cultural experience."

Kurt beelined for the kitchen doorway, and kissed Noah full on the lips. "Mmmm. Are you making scampi?" At Noah's nod, he asked "Chicken or shrimp?"

"Chicken. Salad. Stop & Shop had fresh bread."

"So you really think we should go?"

"Yes. They've been in our lives forever. And I kind of can't believe they found their way back to each other after all this time."

"I think Santana's always been waiting for Brit." Kurt rolled the thoughts over in his head. "And we both know that Santana always gets what she wants. Even if it takes the better part of a decade."

"True."

"They deserve to be happy."

"Yeah. And there will be one upside to going to the wedding."

"Which is?" Kurt leaned into Noah, and they stood in the doorway wrapped in each other.

"Nobody will look at us sideways for dancing with each other."

"Good point."

* * *

><p>December<p>

Kurt was eating lunch at his desk, trying to catch up on last month's insurance paperwork between clients when his phone rang.

"Kurt Hummel speaking, how may I help you?" His father had taught him impeccable phone manners.

"Kurt."

"Blaine?"

"Yeah."

"How are you?" Kurt did some mental math and realized that, not counting the birthday and happy holiday emails they exchanged throughout the year, he hadn't had any substantial contact with Blaine since right after he and Noah had moved to Providence.

"I'm good. Listen. I wanted to tell you something before you heard it through the grapevine."

"O-okay."

"Nate and I are getting married." Kurt had only met Nate once, at which point the very preppy med student came across as not only a pompous jerk but completely boring as well. Kurt hadn't been sure what Blaine was thinking.

"Congratulations?"

He could hear Blaine's forced chuckle through the phone. "Don't sound so thrilled for me, Kurt."

"No. I _am_ happy for you. But B, _you_ don't sound excited."

"It's fine. We've just been stressed out. Nate is applying for residency, and the long hours are killing him."

"What about you? How's the job?" Blaine was working as a junior aid to the junior senator from Maine.

"Crazy. It's always crazy. But I love every second."

Kurt could tell. Blaine had never been good at hiding emotions in his voice. Which was why he was a little worried about things with Nate.

"So. When did he propose?"

"He didn't. I did."

_Oh._

"Over Thanksgiving. He's. Um. He's looking at residency programs all over. Two in California, one in Colorado, one in Seattle, one in Boston."

"And any in D.C.?"

"He hasn't decided yet."

"So you proposed to keep him in D.C. with you."

Blaine was instantly defensive. "He _said_ yes. Which means that he wants to be with me."

Oh, Blaine. In so many ways, he was still a seventeen year old boy. Kurt chose his next words carefully. "Honey, please. Think about this. Do you really want to tie him to you if he isn't sure this is the real thing?"

"He said yes."

"His words said yes. What are his actions telling you?"

"Dammit, Kurt. I'm not one of your clients."

"No. You're not. You're a friend, and a grown man to boot, so I can talk to you the way I can't talk to them. I think you're making a mistake, but it's not my life to live. And because you're my friend, I will support you however I can. That includes telling you what I think and picking you up when your heart gets broken."

"Don't act all high and mighty because you've got the perfect marriage." Shit. Back to that again.

"Blaine, it's not perfect. I've told you that before. It takes work." He took a deep breath. "Noah and I have been to counseling to keep it working. Don't paint my marriage out to be something it isn't, because that isn't fair to anybody."

All he got was silence, which was interrupted by a knock on his door. "Listen. My next client is here. Just think about what I said. I only want you to be happy."

"Right." Kurt could hear the tears in Blaine's voice.

"Keep me updated, okay?"

"Sure."

Kurt hung up the phone and went around his desk to open the door and peer out into the waiting area. He waved to Mrs. Klein, who was pulling a paperback romance out of her purse. "Hi Mrs. Klein." 10-year old Raia smoothed her Patriots sweatshirt down over her jeans as she stood up. "C'mon in, Raia. How has your week been?"

* * *

><p>After Raia Klein (divorce), and Josh Hansen (foster child), and Autumn Sellers (honor student with panic attacks), Kurt returned to his desk to finish up for the day. The message light on his phone, which he muted during sessions, was blinking. There was one message. From Blaine, whose voice was steel. "I thought about what you said. Thank you for the advice, but I stand by my decision. I think it's better if we don't talk for a while."<p>

Well, shit. Blaine had always had a special place in Kurt's heart and life, but Kurt wondered if he had been holding on to Blaine because they were adult friends or because he hadn't wanted to let go of that last vestige of his childhood. Either way, he knew that something had just ended, and it made him sad.

He packed up his files and laptop, shrugged into coat and hat and scarf, locked the office and headed out into the frigid December night. Into the night that would take him home to Noah.

* * *

><p>Noah liked going back to Ohio a lot better now that he and Kurt rented a car and stayed in a hotel. Not that it hadn't been nice of his mom, or Carol or Burt to play airport taxi to and from Columbus, and it really had been less expensive to move between both his and Kurt's childhood homes. But having their own car made it easy to escape, and a hotel gave them someplace to escape to. And escape they were doing. Noah watched Kurt slide the keycard into the reader on the door to their room, cursing when the light blinked red because he'd done it too fast.<p>

"Here." He reached out his hand for the card. "Let me."

Kurt looked at him, hair mussed and skin pink from a combination of the wind outside and the kind-of frantic makeout session they'd had in the car before they'd managed to make it into the hotel.

"Sorry," Kurt whispered. "Something about being with you in my dad's house turns me into a horny teenager."

"Mmm hmm." Noah put the card into the reader, waited a second, and took it out. He heard a faint buzz and the light turned green. Excellent.

The room was warm and dark, and still smelled faintly of Kurt's shampoo from his morning shower. They'd flown in the night before, and spent the day visiting their families. Noah had missed Hanukkah but his mom had cooked latkes anyway, and Burt and Carol had moved the open house to today because Noah and Kurt would be busy the next day with the wedding and Beth. Noah felt smugly satisfied that he and Kurt were the only former glee clubbers to be invited, and he knew that it had nothing really to do with glee anymore. They had been invited because of Beth, and because of Will, because he and Kurt were an odd mix of sort-of family and the closest kind of friends.

"You're quiet." Kurt had tossed his coat and scarf on the extra bed, and was digging through his suitcase for a t-shirt to trade his Henley for; Noah went over and turned the heat down.

"I was just thinking about how none of the other glee kids were invited tomorrow. Not even Rachel."

"I think she's still mad at Shelby."

"Her loss. Because really? Shelby is awesome. She's so good for Will, and she's a great mom to Beth. She didn't have to send me letters and pictures, and she didn't have to let me write back. Or call. And when I wanted to start visiting, she definitely didn't have to do that."

Kurt pulled a gray v-neck over his head and crossed the room, pulling Noah close. "I think she understood. She knew how hard it was for you. And I think that because Beth has always known she was adopted, and what the circumstances were, it made it easier than it would have been otherwise."

"I'm grateful."

"And I'm sure Shelby knows that, too."

* * *

><p>The ceremony was larger than Kurt had expected, mostly teachers from Lima Middle School, where Shelby taught chorus and drama, and McKinley High. The reception, however, was a lot smaller. Will and Shelby had booked the private dining room at Breadstix, and had apparently only invited their families and closest friends to the reception dinner. Noah settled Kurt in at one of the three round tables and wandered off to the bar to get them drinks. Kurt watched as Will and Shelby were greeted by well-wishers, and smiled in gratitude when Noah placed a glass of red wine next to his water glass.<p>

"They're a lovely couple, aren't they," he asked Noah.

"They really are good for each other. I've stopped being surprised."

"Your daughter is beautiful."

"Yeah." Noah's sigh was tinged with sadness at the edges, but he smiled in spite of herself. "I can't take credit for any of how she turns out as a person, but she sure got the best of Quinn's and my genetics."

Kurt looked over to where Beth was talking with another girl her age, presumably a school friend. She was still dressed from the ceremony in a simple silvery A-line dress and low heels, a wreath of pale pink baby roses nestled in her chestnut curls. She caught Kurt's eye and waved at him, and then excused herself to her friend and bounced over to him and Noah. She was growing into a young woman, but so many of her mannerisms were still so child-like, like the way she positively threw herself into Noah's arms.

"No-ey!" Kurt smiled. She was still using the pet name she'd come up with back when Noah had first made tentative movement into her life when she was in kindergarten. It was a strange cross of his name with "daddy" that seemed to suit all involved. After hugging Noah, she turned to Kurt and allowed him to wrap her up in his arms.

"You look beautiful, Bethie."

"Thanks you, Kurt." She looked at them both and held out her hands. "I want you to meet my friend Katie. She's my best friend."

Kurt glanced at Noah, who nodded in assent, before getting up and following Beth over to the girl she had been talking with.

"Katie, Mr. and Mrs. Johnson." Beth addressed the girl and her parents. "I'd like you to meet my birth father, Noah Puckerman. And this is his husband, Kurt Hummel. Kurt, Noah, this is my best friend Katie and her family."

Kurt held back, taking in the scene: Noah shaking hands with the parents and offering a smile to Katie; the way Beth positioned herself, half-leaning against the side of Katie's chair; the way Katie was looking at Beth, her eyes full of admiration and something slightly more intense. _Oh, dear._

After food (surprisingly better than Kurt had remembered) and a delicious light lemon cake with raspberry filling, there was dancing. Will and Shelby shared the first dance, and then Will danced with Beth. After that, it was a free-for-all. Noah started it by pulling Kurt onto the tiny dance floor and slow-dancing with him to "Someone to Watch Over Me." Kurt danced with Shelby and Noah with Beth, and then they switched. Will had clearly been teaching Beth to dance, because she let herself be led and held herself with poise. When Kurt told her that Katie seemed nice, she blushed pink. His instinct wasn't too far off, then. "I'm not asking anything," Kurt told her. "But if you ever need or want to talk, you can always call me and I would never say anything to anyone." Relief flooded her (so very young) face.

"Thanks."

Noah interrupted them, and held out his hand for Beth. "Go," Kurt told her. "Dance with your No-ey." She rolled her eyes at him, which made him smile. He moved off the dance floor and over to the bar. Will joined him while he was waiting on his club soda with lime.

"Thank you guys for coming. It really means a lot to us."

"Thanks for inviting us. Especially to the reception. It's clearly only for important people."

"You and Noah are important. He's Beth's father. That means something. And I'm glad to consider you a friend, Kurt."

"Thanks."

"Which is why I need a favor."

"O-okay."

"So, Shelby's mother was going to stay at the house with Beth tonight so Shelby and I could have the night together, and she bailed."

"Would you like Noah and me to keep Beth with us? We're at the Holiday Inn."

"Actually, would you be willing to stay at the house? The kitchen is stocked, it's free, and the bed in the guest room is really comfortable. It's just for the night; we'll be home early afternoon."

"Of course we can stay. I think we're going to my dad's tomorrow, so if you want, you can pick Beth up there, or we can just bring her back to the house afterwards, give you two a little extra time together."

"Really? That would be fantastic. Are you sure? I mean, I know this is vacation for you."

"Please. You have no idea how much Noah loves getting to spend time with Beth. It's all good."

"Great. Let me go tell Shelby."

Kurt watched Will make his way over to where Shelby was sitting with her feet up on a chair, shoes kicked aside. He whispered in her ear, and she turned and gave Kurt a thumbs up. He walked back over to the dance floor, where Noah was spinning Beth around.

"Hey, you two. Lookin' good."

"Thanks!" Beth's cheeks were flushed and she was grinning.

Kurt gestured towards where Katie was sitting, watching Beth intently. "Why don't you go visit with Katie. Maybe she'd like to dance."

"Yeah. Okay." He smiled as she scampered off, and then pulled Noah into him for one more dance.

"What was that about?" Noah asked, puzzlement in his voice.

"Nothing. So, we're going to stay at the house with Beth tonight. Shelby's mom was supposed to, but changed her mind at the last minute. It's just for the night. Guest room. Stocked fridge."

"You don't have to ask me twice. The one thing I miss about staying with parents is a comfortable bed."

"I hear that."

God, he loved dancing with Noah. It wasn't something they did in public very often, but they did like a nice slow dance at home. He loved the press of their bodies, the slight scratch of stubble against his cheek, the spicy tang of Noah's aftershave. It was the height of romance, and it turned him on in an incredible way.

"Don't get any ideas," Noah whispered as Kurt's hand wandered down to nestle at the small of his back. "We'll be sharing a house with the kid."

"Then we'll just have to spend the next 24 hours in anticipation." Kurt smiled as Noah threw his head back and laughed.

* * *

><p>Later, after a stop at the hotel for changes of clothes and toiletries and after showers and popcorn and a dvd, the house was quiet. Kurt locked up while Noah and Beth went upstairs. He checked in with Beth, who was under her comforter with a thick novel, and went down the hall to the guest room where Noah was already under the covers, sound asleep. Kurt left his bedside lamp on and pulled out a novel of his own, listening to the night settle around him.<p>

Three hours later, he was more than halfway through his book and still couldn't sleep. He had always tended towards insomnia after big events, or when there was just too much going on in his brain. He decided that warm milk might be just the trick, so he put his book aside and closed the door softly behind him. He was just passing Beth's room when her door opened, revealing muted light and the Miss Saigon soundtrack playing softly in the background.

"Kurt." Her hair was in a messy braid, and she wore an extra-large New Directions t-shirt over baggy purple pajama pants with tiny Eeyores on them. Her eyes were ringed with dark circles.

"Bethie. Can't sleep?"

"No."

"Me neither. I was going to make some warm milk. Do you want to join me?"

"I dunno." She wrapped her arms around herself.

"What if I made us both a cup and brought it back upstairs?"

"That would be okay."

"We can talk, if you want." _Don't push it,_ he thought to himself.

"I think . . ." Kurt waited while she leaned against the doorframe. "I think that would be good," she finally let out with a sigh.

"Okay. Back in a jiffy."

Downstairs, he poured milk into a saucepan with a splash of vanilla and a dash of cinnamon. When it was just warm, he poured it into two heavy mugs. He also snagged a sleeve of Oreos off the counter and tucked it under his arm. When he got back to her room, Beth was back in her bed wrapped up in her blankets. Kurt sat down on the edge and handed her one of the mugs and the Oreos; she sipped hesitantly, and then smiled. "That's really good."

"Thank you. It helps, sometimes. When you can't turn off your head."

"I'll have to remember."

"So." Kurt took a deep breath. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. And everything." Kurt rememberd. Being thirteen had been full of days like that.

"Is it the wedding?"

"No. Oh, no. Will is awesome! I'm psyched that he's my step-dad." She paused for a minute, and looked up at him with sad eyes. "I just don't want No-ey to be upset."

"Oh, honey, he's not. Believe me. You have no idea how much he wants you to have a dad who's here with you every day. He also knows how lucky he is that you're a part of his life, and that he gets to be a part of yours." Her hand was surprisingly small and delicate under his own. "Don't worry about him."

"Okay." Kurt watched her, saw her gaze downshift to her lap, where her hands plucked at the comforter. Her next words were so soft that Kurt almost didn't hear them.

"Was No-ey always gay?" Well, then.

"That's really a question you need to ask him, because that part of things is his story to tell, not mine."

"But you were always gay?" And here we go.

"Yes. I believe I was born gay. My dad said he knew when I was five, because all I wanted for my birthday was a pair of sensible heels." He waited for Beth to laugh, which she did only after he let out a soft chuckle.

"But how did you know? When were you sure?"

"You're pulling out all the really hard questions tonight, kiddo."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

"No, no. You're not prying at all. It's just, some of it is hard to answer in a straightforward way because even though I've always been gay, I didn't always understand it or accept it."

"Oh."

"Here." He reached out and took her mug, and set both his and hers on the windowsill. "If we're going to do this, I need to be comfortable."

It had been almost a decade since he'd tried to fit two people in a twin bed, but Beth was petite like Quinn, so it wasn't too tricky. He stretched out on his back, and Beth curled up next to him with her head on his shoulder. Such a gesture of trust from her shocked him a little bit. As he'd told Noah, they'd always had a fun relationship. He felt more like a doting uncle than a pseudo-step-parent. But he also knew that he might be the only impartial person in her life. He took a deep breath and put his arm around her shoulder. And then he began.

"Okay. Facts first. I knew in middle school that I liked boys instead of girls. And before you ask, I didn't have my first boyfriend until I was a junior in high school. I had lots of crushes, but Blaine was my first boyfriend. I had kind-of pretended to be straight the year before, had dated a girl for all of about 5 minutes and for a million really bad reasons. But I wasn't fooling anybody."

"So you were confused?"

"I wouldn't call it confusion. Not really. I mean, I just wanted to see if I _could_ be straight, and if I could I wanted to see if it would be easier. But I couldn't. I've never liked lying to myself, and pretending to be straight was the ultimate betrayal. For me, pretending hurt as much as being in the closet."

"So when did you know for sure?"

"The first time Blaine kissed me. That was the moment that it all made sense."

Beth was quiet next to him for a few minutes. "Kurt?" Her voice was tentative, and he could feel her body shaking.

"Yes, sweetie?"

"I think . . . Um. I think I like girls."

"Girls in general, or Katie specifically?"

"Both."

Kurt sighed. "Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me. Have you talked about this with Katie?"

"Just a little bit."

"Well, you can always talk to me. And I promise you, this is just between us."

"Thanks, Kurt." Beth yawned and reached up to rub her eyes. "Will you . . . will you stay with me until I fall asleep?"

"Of course."

Kurt slid off the bed and sat on the floor, allowing Beth to be comfortable. When she had burrowed under her blankets and mashed her pillows up just right, she reached out for his hand and held it until she drifted off.

* * *

><p>The other side of the guest bed was empty and cold when Noah woke to the sun streaming through the window. He rolled over and saw that Kurt's covers were thrown back. His book was open on his pillows and the bedside lamp was on. The door was closed. Noah stretched and got up, padding down the hall to the bathroom. He figured Kurt hadn't been able to sleep and had gone downstairs to watch a movie or something. He didn't expect what he found when he walked past Beth's partially open door: Beth, sound asleep in her bed with one hand clutched in Kurt's; and Kurt, sleeping sitting up on the floor, legs out in front of him and his back against Beth's nightstand. His husband and his daughter, together.<p>

* * *

><p>In the end, the Berry-Newsom wedding, which had been planned to be an extravaganza the likes of which Lima had never seen, was conducted via Skype in the bride's childhood home thanks to a blizzard that kept not only the wedding party and the rabbi but also all of the guests snowed in for three days. By all accounts, it was a lovely, though technologically assisted, affair. When they were able to get out of Ohio, the bride and groom honeymooned in Paris. Ava Elaine Newsom made her entrance into the world nine months later.<p>

* * *

><p>The save the date card for the Lopez-Pierce wedding in April stayed clipped to Noah and Kurt's kitchen calendar, but neither of them were surprised to find out that the brides ended up eloping on a beach in San Diego instead of having a big wedding. Kurt sent a toaster as a wedding gift.<p>

* * *

><p>On the Tuesday after Memorial Day, Kurt arrived in his office to see the message light on his phone blinking. All of his clients and their families had his cell number in case of an emergency, so he dialed into his voicemail with trepidation. There was only one message.<p>

"_Kurt, it's Blaine. I hate to say you told me so, but you did. I've broken things off with Nate. I'm sorry I was so awful to you. It's just hard for me because I can't seem to let go of what we had. I know, I know. You're with Noah now, and we were over a long time ago. God, I'm sorry, I'm kind of a little drunk. You should erase this when you get it. Um. Right. Anyway. I love you, Kurt. I've always loved you and I never did stop. And I can't help hoping that maybe you still love me, too. I'm sorry if my not being able to let go is causing problems for you and Noah. Bye._"

Oh, Blaine. Kurt pressed the code to erase the message, and then he dialed the one place he knew Blaine _wouldn't_ be: his office phone.

"_Blaine, it's Kurt. I'm sorry to hear about you and Nate, I really am. But you can't call me and tell me these things. We were in the past; you'll always be special to me because you were my first, but I don't have any feelings for you other than friendship. Please don't call me again until you get things figured out. It's not fair to me, and it's really not fair to you either. Take care."_

He hung up just as there was a knock on his door. He smoothed a hand over his face, schooled his expression and emotions, and opened the door to his first client of the day.


	19. Chapter 17

July, 2025 Provincetown MA

Kurt had totally forgotten to check the schedule of summer events before he'd booked their B&B back in February. He'd apologized profusely to Noah after realizing his mistake, but Noah just laughed it off. "No big," he'd said as he set their beach blanket down next to two lesbians with a trio of tow-headed kids. "It'll be fun. And besides," he'd winked, "it's not like we're really into the club thing, or ogling the hot guys on the beach."

"You're the only hot guy on the beach I care about," Kurt had told him honestly. "But really? I am sorry about the Family Week thing."

"Seriously, K. No worries. And I really do think it will be fun."

It turned out that it was. They had a small (read: virtually nonexistent) circle of gay friends in Providence. The vast majority of both of their colleagues were straight, and very few were actually coupled up. And even the ones who were coupled up were still childless. Being someplace that was teeming with gay and lesbian families felt different but good. The fishbowl that was Provincetown on a normal summer week, straight tourists gawking at often over-the-top demonstrations of sexuality, was tempered during this week of parents and children. The streets weren't impassible, the beach wasn't too crowded. The inherent pressure to spend nights partying and dancing were absent. As a result, the whole vacation was shaping up to be more relaxing than either of them had expected.

They spent lazy mornings in bed, and then would pack up and get some lunch and head down to the beach. Kurt liked the spot they had found the first day because it had a little bit of natural shade, which meant that his sun block actually worked and he didn't need to stay under an umbrella to keep from turning crispy. It turned out that the lesbians with the tow-heads liked that area as well, and there was a gay couple with an adorable 2 year old girl who also set up nearby every day. As the week went on, the adults would chat while the kids darted in and out of the surf or shoveled muddy sand into plastic buckets. The lesbians, Nina and Rachel, were from Philadelphia; they had used AI and the same donor to conceive their three children. The guys, Matt and Erik, were down from New Hampshire. They had adopted through an agency in Boston that worked with gay couples throughout New England. Kurt could tell from the way Noah sat up a little straighter and pushed his sunglasses up on his head that this was interesting to him.

"Do they allow for open adoptions?"

"If you want one, and if the birth mom agrees. Our birth mom didn't want to, though we would have been more than willing. Of course, she knows how to find us if she changes her mind later."

"Mmm hmm."

Noah excused himself then; Kurt watched as he walked down to the ocean's edge and stood for a long time, just looking out to the horizon. He didn't go after Noah. One thing that had come out of all the therapy was a much better understanding of Noah's body language and emotions. He would wait. Noah would come back when he was ready.

* * *

><p>Noah stood in the sand and let the cool water lap over his bare feet. His head was swimming. All the conversations he and Kurt had had about potential future children had involved lots of the "someday, definitely" variety peppered with theoretical discussions about adoption versus foster parenting versus surrogacy. But that was as far as they had ever gotten. They had never set a timeline, and Noah was starting to feel like the chance at parenthood was passing them by. He'd been a little restless with the wanting for much of the spring, had let the want curl into a weight that settled just under his ribcage. He hadn't known how to tell Kurt. It reared up now and then, when he talked with Beth on the phone or walked by the Lower School playground on his way to lunch. It was almost consuming him this week. He needed to at least broach the subject with Kurt; he couldn't stay here forever, so he swallowed around the breathtaking desire in his throat and returned to their beach blanket.<p>

That night, he held Kurt's hand gently as they walked through town after dinner. Kurt smiled slightly as he asked "Should we get ice cream?"

"Of course. Let's get our cones and walk?"

"Okay."

Noah stood in the line that snaked out from the order window while Kurt perused the long list of flavors stuck to the side of the building, even though Noah already knew what he would get. When he had ordered and paid, he juggled their cones and napkins and wandered around the outside of the building until he found Kurt, who was leaning against the railing around the deck looking out at the ocean. Noah presented his cone with a flourish over his shoulder. "Once scoop chocolate peanut butter, one scoop rocky road in a sugar cone."

Kurt's hand was warm where it brushed Noah's, and Noah shivered against the contact. Even stupid things like that still drove him crazy. "You always remember." Kurt said softly.

"Always."

"I'm guessing you got chocolate orange?"

"This is seriously the only place I can get it. Don't you dare mock me. What's up?"

"You were the one who wanted to walk. And talk, I'm assuming."

"I do. But you were looking so pensive, I just had to ask."

Kurt worked on his cone in silence for a few minutes. Noah leaned with his back against the railing and breathed in Kurt's scent, a mix of sunscreen and salt water and cool night air. He was just about to speak when Kurt's voice drifted out, soft in the darkness.

"I've been thinking this week. That it might be time."

"For what?"

"To have the kids talk. I mean, really have it. Talk about logistics and finances and the realities of what it's going to be like and daycare versus a nanny versus one of us staying home."

Noah's felt his voice catch around the want that was spreading through his body. "I've been thinking of nothing else for months. Thank you." He was surprised to taste salt mingling with the sweetness of orange and chocolate.

"Oh, baby. Don't cry." Pause. "I didn't realize you'd been thinking about it."

Noah swallowed around the tears. "I didn't know how to start. It's such a big thing. I guess I got a little scared."

"That's okay. It's scary. It's going to be life-changing. But I think it's going to be great."

"Yeah."

"Finish your ice cream before it melts. I have plans for the rest of the night."

Noah finished his ice cream, and took Kurt in his arms to hold him close for a few minutes before they went back to the B&B.

* * *

><p>It wasn't just a one-night conversation. The only thing they could agree on was adoption. Noah liked the idea of using the Boston agency and trying for an open adoption. "It's been good for me and for Beth," he told Kurt one night in August. Kurt was on a referral list through DCF as a counselor who would work with foster kids and families, and he kind of liked the idea of adopting a kid who was in the system. They both knew that they didn't want to do an international adoption or use a surrogate. It was almost Labor Day before they managed to compromise. They would put in an application with the Boston agency and with DCF. These things took nothing but time, after all, and there were going to be visits from social workers and counselors and stacks of paperwork and all kinds of hoops to jump through. They'd do it all and cast their lot with the fates.<p>

They spent the better part of September working on the various segments of paperwork. There were home visits and endless copies of bank records and the house files and their marriage license. Interviews with them together and individually, their friends, and long-distance phone interviews with their families. The last piece of the puzzle was a picture and personal statement for the agency in Boston. They chose a picture Erik had taken of them in P-Town; they were standing with their arms wrapped around each other, barefoot in jeans and t-shirts on the beach at sunset. Kurt hadn't been sure about it, but Noah pointed out that it showed them being casual and also a little bit romantic ("I mean," he said, "if you're going to give your kid to a couple wouldn't you want to know that they were totally in love?"). They each wrote out what they wanted to say in their statement and then pieced it together. Kurt did the final edit, and presented it to Noah over dinner on the last Monday in September. "Don't judge until you've read it all the way through, please." Kurt made him promise.

_I'm Kurt, and my husband is Noah. We've been in and out of each other's lives since we were kids, and we became a couple when we were in college. We've been married for nine years. We own a home in Providence, where I am a child psychologist and Noah teaches high school Biology._

_When Noah was 16, his high school girlfriend got pregnant and they gave that baby up for adoption. Because the adoptive family was open to having contact with Noah, we are lucky enough to have a wonderful relationship with that child and her family. Her name is Beth; she is 15 and lives with her adoptive mother and stepfather in Ohio, and we see her regularly both on visits home to Ohio and on her yearly spring break trip to stay with us. _

_We are looking for a birth family that is interested in an open adoption. We are completely flexible as to how much contact you would want, and we are also willing to adjust over time. Even if you don't want contact in the beginning, we will always welcome you to be a part of the child's life. _

_Please consider us when picking an adoptive family for your child. We live every day with love, laughter and music. We would love nothing more than to share those gifts with your child._

Noah blinked through his tears and slid the paper back across the table to Kurt.

"It's perfect. Send it in."

* * *

><p>The two manila envelopes were heavy in Kurt's briefcase. He had kind-of lied to Noah on Tuesday, saying that he had mailed them when in fact he just hadn't had time to get to the post office. But then it was Wednesday, and then Thursday, and he couldn't seem to take care of them. It was a 10 minute errand. It wasn't hard. The truth was, he was terrified. And here it was, Friday afternoon and he was sitting in his car in the post office parking lot and he still couldn't do it. He picked up his phone and dialed his dad at the garage, but Tony said that he and Carol were off for a long weekend to visit Finn in Pittsburgh. He scrolled down through his contacts, thumb hovering first over Shelby and then over Will. No. He scrolled back to the top and clicked "dial" before he over-thought things.<p>

"Kurt! You're lucky school just got out, or I'd be in real trouble."

"Hi, Bethie."

"What's up?"

"Not much. You?"

"Oh. You know. Same old. School sucks. Lima sucks. Girls suck. And before you ask, you're still the only one who knows. So don't spill the beans."

"Never! How's Glee going?"

"Glee is great. I think we're going to be able to compete this year. And Will and mom are co-directing the musical this year. They're being all secretive, but I think it's going to be fab. Of course I won't get the lead, because that would make everyone jealous. But I _am_ going to get a part and you and No-ey should come out and see me in it."

Kurt rubbed his rand across his face and put pressure above his eyes. "Sounds great. Let us know after auditions, okay?"

"Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yeah. No. Okay. I need you to tell me to mail the applications."

"Oh, for the adoption?"

"Noah told you."

"Of course. And mom and Will. They've talked me to death about it, and I think it's awesome. I'll have a kind-of sibling. But Kurt? You sound scared."

"I am."

"Why?"

"Because it's going to change things."

"Of course it is. But it's going to be awesome. I love having you and No-ey in my life, but I'm not really yours. You guys need a kid of your very own. You're both going to rock at being parents. You know that, right?"

"I do."

"Then what are you waiting for, silly?"

"Nothing, I guess."

"Kurt?"

"Yes?"

"Mom told me once that she wasn't totally ready when she took me home from the hospital, but she figured it out and I think I turned out pretty well."

Kurt smiled in spite of himself. "I think you turned out pretty well too, Bethie."

"Thanks, Kurt. Gotta go. Mom is waiting. Love you."

"Love you, too, Bethie. Say hi to everyone there for me."

"Okay. Go mail the applications."

* * *

><p>Beth ended the call before Kurt could say anything. He took a deep breath and stepped out into the crisp fall day, and sent all of their hopes and dreams for a child out into the universe.<p>

Kurt had expected the process to take months, but they got a call on Halloween from their coordinator at the agency. She was crisp and professional on the voicemail, but Kurt could hear the excitement in her voice. "Noah, Kurt, it's Amy. I have good news. I met with a young woman today who loved your statement. She really wants to meet you, and the best news is that she actually lives in Providence. Give me a call when you get this, and we can get something set up."

Kurt pulled a chair out from the kitchen table and dropped into it. Noah was leaning against the counter, looking a little pale.

"I didn't think it would happen so soon," he told Kurt, his voice trembling.

"If we're not ready, we can always tell Amy to keep looking."

"No." Kurt wasn't surprised to hear the strength in Noah's voice. "No. We did all of this and put it out there. And here it is, coming back to us. The girl who's having our baby wants to meet. We _have_ to do this." He handed the phone to Kurt. "Call Amy and tell her yes."

* * *

><p>The girl's name was Laura, and Noah almost fell out of his chair when he realized that she was a student. At Brown. They met her for brunch on Sunday morning at a restaurant on Thayer Street. Laura was a little shorter than Kurt, which meant that she had about two inches on Noah. He thought she was cute, big green eyes and freckles, and curly auburn hair in a thick ponytail; she wasn't showing yet, or at least he didn't think he saw a baby bump under her Brown hoodie. She had a full backpack slung over one shoulder. "Sorry about this," she said as she shoved the pack under the corner table they had managed to snag. "I have midterms next week, and I have <em>got<em> to hit the library after this."

"What are you studying?" Noah watched Kurt sip at his coffee and toy with his napkin.

"American Studies. My concentration is Early American History and Religion. I want to be a college professor."

Noah let Kurt process that, and a slightly awkward silence settled over the table. Laura broke it quickly.

"Look. I'm a junior. I'm not a dumb kid; I just made a dumb mistake. I went home to Indianapolis for the summer, and. Well. I guess you don't need all the details, but the long and short of things is that I had come down with strep throat from the kids at the camp I worked at, and the antibiotics messed with my birth control and there was a slight 'wardrobe malfunction' if you will. It happened right before I left to come back to school. The doctor said that I'm due right around the first of June, so I'll be able to finish out the year."

Noah got out the question he knew Kurt was thinking. "Why adoption?"

"Amy didn't tell you?"

"No."

"I'm adopted. I have lesbian moms."

_Oh. _"Oh." Kurt's voice was barely a whisper. "Why us?"

"Because you're open to an open adoption. My birth mom wasn't. And you're here in Providence, which makes it easy for the whole process. And you both work with kids, which tells me that you really do love kids, you're not just doing this because you think you should."

Noah decided in that instant that he was all in. "We've been talking about this since we were 22 years old."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Wow. So, um. Do you have any other questions for me?"

"What are you looking for in terms of medical care and things like that?"

"Oh. I'm still on my parent's insurance. And before you ask, I called them as soon as I found out. They might like to meet you at some point, but they know and they are being really supportive. I think especially because I decided on adoption. My room and board are all taken care of. I think maybe just maternity clothes at some point."

Kurt was kind-of smiling across the table, clearly enjoying the idea of playing fashion consultant. "What about questions for us?" He said, through his grin.

"Do you want to know the baby's sex?"

"NO!" They were both emphatic. Thankfully they'd talked about that well beforehand. "But," Kurt added, "If you want to find out that's fine. Just don't tell us."

"I think my mom and Lizzie and Carol and Beth and Shelby will want to know," Noah added as an afterthought. He looked back at Laura. "If you decide to find out, I'll give you all of their contact info and you can tell them. I think they'd kill us both if we didn't let them know."

After the waitress had come and taken their orders, they made small talk about collectively being from the Midwest and what it was like for Laura growing up there with two moms. Kurt had her rolling with laughter over some of Rachel's "My Two Gay Dads" stories, and when Kurt mentioned McKinley High, Laura's eyes grew wide over her plate of pancakes. "McKinley? Aren't they the ones with that killer glee club? Something Directions?"

"New Directions." Noah was surprised. "You know about them?"

"Oh, I had friends in our glee club. They kicked our asses at Midwest Regionals when I was a junior. Why?"

Noah couldn't help but laugh. "It's a really small world, then. Kurt and I both sang with them when we were in high school. And the director is married to the woman who adopted my daughter, who sings with them now."

"Freaky."

"Definitely."

Noah looked at Kurt; his eyes were wide and shining and impossibly blue. He nodded slightly. They both knew it. This was fate. Noah turned to Laura. "Are you in?" he asked her. "Because Kurt and I are in. All in. We would be honored to adopt your baby."

"Yes. Yes, I'm in."

* * *

><p>After breakfast, they walked Laura to the library and left her with all of their phone numbers and emails. They took their time going home; once they got there, Kurt called the agency (closed on Sundays, of course) and left a message for Amy. "Amy, it's Kurt and Noah. We just had a wonderful brunch with Laura. We've all agreed that this is the right match. We're ready to move forward. I'll be in my office all day tomorrow, so you can reach me there with any questions."<p>

While he was talking, Noah ran his hands down Kurt's back. When the call was done, he tugged Kurt by the waistband of his jeans and pulled him backwards into a hug. He pressed kisses along the back of Kurt's neck and felt Kurt shudder in his arms.

"Come upstairs with me," he whispered. "We have the whole rest of the day. Come upstairs and be with me."

"Always." Kurt's voice was husky with desire. "I'll always be with you."

They made lazy love, and napped, and just lay wrapped in each other until the trees outside cast shadows over the duvet. Noah felt sated and sleepy and gently content, like this was exactly how things were supposed to be.

"It feels different than I thought it would," he said, toying with Kurt's hair.

"Like how?"

"Like, I thought it was going to be this huge deal, meeting the birth mom. But it was like sitting down with a friend, or our families."

"I think that means we made the right decision."

"We did, didn't we?"

"Yeah."

"Hey, K? Should we call the families?"

"Not yet. I want to keep this just ours for a little while longer." Kurt turned in Noah's arms and kissed him again. "I just want to be here, with you." Kurt's hands were warm and soft and _just right_. They didn't get up again until it was already dark.


	20. Chapter 18

Spring, 2026

April, Lima

Noah never took days off from school. Okay, that wasn't totally true. He'd taken two days off last winter when he'd come down with bronchitis, but that had really been medical necessity because he ended up so doped up on prescription cough syrup that he couldn't even get out of bed. But this was different. He'd put in for a Friday personal day, and told his classes and written a neat stack of sub plans that he'd left on his desk. He went home Thursday night and picked up Kurt and their luggage, and drove the 15 minutes to the airport. It was a quick trip, in on Thursday night and home on Sunday evening, cheap tickets on a Providence to Columbus flight. It was the last trip they'd make before the baby came, and while they were going to Lima for Beth's 16th birthday and to see her perform as Reno Sweeny in _Anything Goes_ at McKinley, Noah also had an inkling that the women in his and Kurt's lives were taking it upon themselves to throw a baby shower. Even though Kurt had made everyone promise that there would be no such thing as a shower.

He mentioned it to Kurt as they lay curled together Friday morning in their room at the Holiday Inn. To his credit, Kurt just smiled. "I know. I want to hate them for it, but I can't. They're all so excited."

"Yeah. As long as they don't spill the beans about the baby's sex." Laura had found out just after Christmas, and had apparently told her moms, and then emailed Leah and Lizzie, Carol, and Shelby and Beth. Noah was pleased that they'd all kept the secret to this point; Kurt had threatened them all with bodily harm if they slipped up. They'd painted the nursery a pale green color, and Laura had gone with them to pick out a light oak crib, dresser, and matching changing table. He and Kurt hadn't been able to compromise on a theme, though, so they'd been thrilled when Laura showed up for one of their bi-monthly Friday dinners with a big bag from Babies R Us. Her find was perfect, sheets and a baby quilt and a wall runner in sage green, cream, and brown geometric prints. "Gender neutral," she told them, "which means that you'll be able to use it again with baby number two." He and Kurt had just glanced at each other across the dinner table and smiled.

"We should get breakfast," Kurt said sleepily, interrupting Noah's thoughts about the baby.

"Yeah. Or we could stay in bed for a while and then see if your dad and Carol want to meet for lunch. Are they coming to the show tonight?"

"And to the party. Dad said they wouldn't miss it. Even though I'm the only tie they have to Beth, they both think of her like a granddaughter."

"It's sweet."

"We should stay in bed."

* * *

><p>They ended up spending the better part of the day in bed, mostly because they had the rare luxury of doing so and in part because neither Carol or Burt were able to get away for lunch; the four of them met up for dinner instead before heading over to the high school. Kurt felt a little awkward settling down next to Noah in the same auditorium where they had sung and danced their way through their teens. Something about being in that space made him feel like he was 16 again, but the feeling passed as soon as the lights dimmed and Noah took his hand across the armrest of the too-small seats.<p>

The show was solid. The kids were all talented; Beth was spectacular, and Kurt didn't think that because she was Noah's daughter. He thought that because she sparkled on stage. She had a rich mezzo soprano, and could belt better than Rachel ever did. There was a nuanced maturity to her performance, and even her dancing was pretty good; he and Noah both knew that she'd never had a formal lesson, though nobody in the audience would likely have been able to tell. They mingled with his dad and Carol during the intermission, and wasted no time jumping to their feet with the rest of the audience at the end of the second act. They watched the normal opening night presentation of flowers to the directors and leads (and smiled as Will and Shelby shared a small kiss at center stage). They waited in the hall outside of the dressing rooms for Beth, who dropped her bag on the floor before launching herself into Noah's arms.

"No-ey, thankyouthankyouthankyou!"

"For what?" Kurt could hear Noah murmur into Beth's ear.

"For coming to see the show."

"It was wonderful." Kurt found his voice, and opened his arms to Beth for his own hug. When he had her ensconced in his arms, he told her "You have real star quality. You were brilliant." When she pulled away, he could see a faint blush wandering up her face.

"Thanks." She looked around the near-empty hallways. "Where are Mom and Will?"

"We wanted to take you out to celebrate, and I think they were both exhausted. And maybe looking forward to having a little kid-free time. So, a late dinner?"

"God, yes. I'm _starving._"

Kurt smiled. He'd never been able to eat before performing, either.

"Breadstix?" Noah asked.

"Is there anywhere else?"

They all laughed as they headed to the car.

Kurt wasn't sure how everyone had managed to hide their cars, but there were no visible signs of the impending party. That was good. When they got inside, Kurt went ahead and let Noah follow behind to motion to the hostess that they were with the party. Shelby and Will had booked the private room, and Kurt ignored Beth's questions as they walked through the crowded restaurant. He swung the doors open to a crowd of Beth's friends and family shouting "surprise!" He let his eyes drift through the room, catching his dad and Carol, Noah's mom. And there, in a far corner, trying to be invisible but standing out anyway in chic but casual clothes and an adorable short haircut, Quinn Fabray.

"Oh. Shit. What's she doing here?" The words were barely out of Kurt's mouth when he felt Noah pull up behind him and see her as well.

"_Fuck_. Who invited her?"

* * *

><p>Noah was shaking. Son of a bitch. All these years, he'd put in the effort. <em>He'd<em> written the first letter to Shelby when Beth was four, asking if it was okay for him to write back after he got pictures in the mail. _He'd_ made the first awkward phone call, had worked to keep up the contact because Beth was important to him. He'd built the relationship slowly and carefully, and was lucky that Beth was the kind of kid who understood implicitly that he had given her up because he loved her. She had only asked him about Quinn once, when she was in elementary school. He'd told her what he could, and emphasized that just because Quinn never wrote or called didn't mean that she didn't think about Beth; he knew that the opposite was likely true, that the reason Quinn was keeping her distance was because she thought and felt entirely _too much_. Even so, she was the very last person he'd expected to see at Breadstix this night.

He took Kurt's hand firmly in his own and watched as Beth made the rounds of well-wishers. Noah took the opportunity to hug Will and Shelby and congratulate them on a show well done. Somehow, he wasn't surprised when Will whispered in his ear "I tracked Quinn down and let her know there was going to be a party. I never heard back, so I didn't think she'd come. I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"No. No, it's okay. I think . . . I think it's a good thing."

"I'm really sorry, though. That's not a nice surprise to spring on anyone."

"Will. Stop."

Will laughed in that slightly insecure, nervous way he had, and turned to talk with Kurt. Noah ran a hand along the length of Kurt's back and asked him "Drink?"

"Mmmm. Club soda with lime, please."

Noah wandered over to the bar and ordered a Coke for himself, Kurt's club soda, and then added a white wine at the last minute. He took Kurt his drink before taking his Coke in one hand and the wine in the other, and weaving his way through the room to where Quinn remained plastered to the wall. Her eyes widened at his approach, and she pushed off the wall with ease to meet him, carefully taking the almost-too-full wineglass from him.

"I hope you like white."

She smiled faintly at him. "It's fine. Thank you. You didn't have to-"

"Thank you for coming."

"You seem better with it than I'd thought."

"Shocked." Noah swallowed around his words, more in an effort to slow his brain than anything else. He tried again. "I was kind of _surprised_ to see you here."

"Probably about as surprised as I was to get an invitation from Mr. Schue."

"Are you nervous? Being here, I mean, and meeting Beth."

"Yes."

"You look good. LA treating you all right?"

"It's fine." Noah had heard through the grapevine that Quinn was working at the LA office of a large financial firm.

"You might be fine, but you're not really happy, are you?

She looked down into her wine. "You always could see through me."

Noah laughed at that. "It must be a talent. Kurt says the same thing almost every day."

"Things are good with you? With the both of you?"

"You haven't heard."

"Heard what?"

"We're having a baby." Quinn's eyes went big, and Noah scrambled to explain. "I mean, we're adopting a baby. The birth mother was adopted herself, by a lesbian couple."

"Wow."

"Yeah, wow. In about six weeks, I'll be a dad. Again."

"Beth's okay with all of that? This?"

"With me? With Kurt? Me being a part of her life?"

"Yeah."

"She's a really unique kid. You and I gave her a lot, mostly her looks and her talent. She was remarkable in the show tonight, by the way. If you have time tomorrow night, you should go see it. But where I was going with this was that Shelby did everything else." He took a breath, leaned back against the wall next to her and ran his hand over his face. "It wasn't easy to make that first contact. I was afraid Shelby would tell me that she didn't want that, and that Beth wouldn't want to know me. But little kids are funny. The more people they have in their lives, the better. She's always gotten it. She's always known she was adopted, and she knows that we gave her up because we couldn't give her the kind of life she deserved."

"Do you know that?"

"It took me a long time, but yes." He leveled her with a look. "Do you?"

"I'm getting there. For a long time, I thought about her every single day. But it's gotten better over time. I don't think I'm ready for what you have with her, but I'm glad I came."

"Good. Do you want to meet her?"

"Yes. Please." Quinn's voice was hoarse and her eyes were wet.

Noah took her hand gently in his; it felt strange. The last time he'd done that was sixteen years ago in the fluorescent light of the hall outside the hospital nursery. "C'mon. I'll bet you the next drink that she knows who you are before I introduce you."

* * *

><p>Kurt watched from across the room while Noah and Quinn talked. It seemed to be going well. When Noah took Quinn's hand and began to lead her away from the corner they had been talking in, he crossed through the maze of tables to meet them. He hugged Quinn, and told her she looked beautiful before falling into step with them. "Quinn wants to meet Beth," Noah told him, a subtle note of pride in his voice.<p>

"Good."

Beth was clustered around the buffet table with a group of kids, a mix of boys and girls. When they reached her, Kurt tapped her on her shoulder. She turned and grinned at him. "Kurt! No-ey! These are some of the kids from Glee. Guys," she turned back to the kids. "This is my birth father, Noah, and his husband Kurt. They were in New Directions when they went to McKinley." Kurt smiled when her voice went down to a reverent hush. "They were the group that won _Nationals_!"

Kurt was swarmed by the kids, who were clamoring over each other to ask him questions, but he pulled away. "Nice to meet you all. Give Noah and me a minute with Beth, and then I'll come back and you can ask me questions all night, okay?" He breathed a sigh as they moved away en masse, and he used a gentle hand at the small of Beth's back to usher her to the end of the buffet. Then he stepped back and left Noah and Quinn to it.

"Bethie," Noah began. "I'd like you to meet-"

Kurt watched as Beth squared her shoulders and said "You're Quinn Fabray, and you're my birth mother. Right?"

Quinn nodded. And Kurt's heart broke to watch Beth close the distance between them, pull Quinn into her arms, and say "Thank you."

* * *

><p>There was dinner, and dancing, and a delicious birthday cake. Noah and Kurt talked for a while with Beth's Glee friends, regaling them with stories about slushie facials (apparently long a thing of the past), writing original songs (Kurt hummed a few bars of "My Headband", which sent Noah laughing right off his chair because that had been during Kurt's time at Dalton; "Britt taught me," Kurt told him later), and some of Mr. Schue's crazier lessons ("Proud Mary" in wheelchairs, and the Rocky Horror debacle topped the list). The whole time, though, they both kept a watchful eye on the table where Beth sat talking with Quinn.<p>

"It's good for them," Kurt said after the kids had dispersed.

"I know."

"Are you okay?"

"Actually, yes. I want Quinn to know Beth. I've wanted that for a long time, I just never thought it was going to happen."

"I'm glad it has."

"Me, too."

"So." Noah reached his hand out for Kurt's. "Should we head out? My mom and Carol want to meet us 'for breakfast' tomorrow."

Kurt snorted. "For the 'not a baby shower,' I suppose."

Noah just rolled his eyes as he pulled Kurt to his feet so they could say their goodbyes.

* * *

><p>Breakfast wasn't a surprise baby shower after all; instead, it was just Kurt's dad and Carol, Noah's mom, and Shelby and Will ("Beth's having breakfast with Quinn," Will told them in a whisper as they all sat down). There was no real fanfare, and no baby gifts ("We sent them all to the house!" Noah's mom cackled with laughter at Noah's expression of fear).<p>

"We just wanted a chance to get together with you boys before the baby comes to tell you how proud we all are, and how excited we are for this next chapter in your lives." Carol beamed at them over her glass of orange juice.

Talk was light, the meal full of laughter as the parents shared stories of Noah, Kurt, and Finn as little boys. Kurt felt vaguely embarrassed, but laughed along with everyone else. When the group stood to leave, his dad held him close for a long moment. "God, Kurt, you have no idea how proud I am of you. I can't wait to meet my grandbaby."

"You'll be my first call."

"I love you."

"I love you too, Dad."

* * *

><p>May, Providence<p>

The Wednesday before Memorial Day, Noah was in the middle of handing out exam review sheets to his Intro to Bio kids when his cell began dancing across his desk. He apologized to the kids, said "Give me a minute," and stepped out into the hall.

"K? What's going on?"

"Laura just called."

"And?"

"Meet me at the hospital."

"I have to finish out this class. I have a free after this, and I'll need to have someone cover the rest of the day. And the sub plans. And exams. Shit."

"Noah. Breathe. Are you breathing?"

"Barely."

"Try harder, and listen. Her water just broke. It's probably going to take a while. Finish your class. Find coverage, and tell the office. They'll take care of finding a sub for tomorrow. This is why you put all those plans together over the last few months. We knew this might happen before school got out. We'll make it work. There's a reason why my schedule is so flexible. We've got this."

Noah let out a shaky breath. "Yeah."

"Go. Finish your class and I'll see you at the hospital."

"O-okay."

"And Noah? I love you."

"I love you too."

The kids were bouncing in their seats. Noah gulped in a breath of air and finished handing out the review questions with shaking hands. He worked to focus on the lesson at hand, and managed to finish up a few minutes early. That was when he finally stopped moving and leaned against his desk. "Okay," he told his class with a sigh. "I'm going to be out until Tuesday. I've left plans for the sub, so be on your best behavior. Go through the review sheets and make notes of any questions you have. We can talk about them on Monday."

Jacob Lewis, a kid who was also in Noah's advisory, raised his hand. Noah nodded at him to go on. "Mr. P., is it the baby? Is the baby coming today?"

"With any luck."

The room exploded into excited chatter, and Noah just let them talk until the bell rang. Then he pulled four folders of sub plans out of his bottom drawer and placed them on his desk, gathered his briefcase and jacket and went down to the office. Kendra, the Upper School secretary, was busy feeding papers into the copier. "Kendra?" he called over the click and whine of the machine.

"Noah. What's up?"

"Kurt called. Laura's in labor."

"Oh!"

"Yeah. So, I have a free right now and I really need to get to the hospital. And I need to be off till Tuesday. There are sub plans on my desk."

She held up a finger. "How many classes left today?"

"Two. Anatomy and Advanced Bio."

"Okay. I think . . ." Noah could see the wheels turning in her head; she kept a mental schedule of every teacher in the Upper School. "Yes. I can have Kate cover your classes today; her sophomores are gone all day on a field trip, and I think I have the perfect sub for the rest of the week. Call and let me know how things go, okay?"

"Uh huh."

"Now. Go be with your family."

"Thanks."

"And Noah?"

"Yeah?"

"Good luck."

* * *

><p>Things didn't go quite as slowly as Kurt had thought. It turned out that while Laura's water had broken right before she called Kurt, she'd actually been in early labor since the previous afternoon but she'd gutted the contractions out because she'd had a paper due at noon. So by the time Kurt found her on the Labor and Delivery floor, she was already well progressed. He sat with Laura while she called her moms, who assured her they'd be on the first flight they could get out of Indianapolis, but it wasn't likely they'd get into town before morning. She passed the phone off to Kurt, who assured Susan and Wendy that he'd take care of their little girl and would call them when the baby was born. Then he set her phone to silent and focused on getting Laura through her labor. "Do you want to walk?" The nurse had suggested that it would help things along, and help ease some pain as well; Laura had been adamant to both Kurt and the nurse that she didn't want drugs.<p>

"Yeah. You're going to have to help me out of bed, though. I swear. This baby is enormous."

"I can't believe you finished that paper. What was it on, anyway?" Kurt made small talk as he led Laura out of the room and into the hallway.

"Lesser-known Puritan-era witch hunts."

"Uh huh."

"Maybe I'm just a history geek, but I thought it was interesting. And I kicked ass on it, despite the alien's intrusion."

"The alien, huh?"

"That's what it feels like when it moves around. Like there's this weird little life form in there. And it doesn't matter how high-tech the ultrasounds are, I still think it looks like a blob."

"Blob. Maybe that's what we should name it."

"Ha!" Laura barked out a short laugh. "What did you guys ever settle on for names? Especially the last name thing."

"If it's a girl, we're going to name her after my mom, and use Noah's mom's middle name for her middle name. And she'd be a Hummel. For a boy, we're going to use Noah's maternal grandfather's name for the first name and my dad's middle name for the middle name. A boy will be a Puckerman."

"Complicated."

"It is that. But trying to hyphenate Hummel and Puckerman isn't easy. And when Noah and I were in high school, all the couples had these weird nicknames: Finchel, Puckleberry. I didn't want our kids to end up with a weird last name like Hummelman or Puckell. This whole thing was the compromise we made."

"Because that would be unfortunate." They collapsed in giggles as they rounded the nurse's station, which is where Noah found them. He kissed Kurt on the mouth, and Laura on the cheek. "How's it going?"

"We're walking." Laura's voice was dry with sarcasm.

"I can see that."

Laura looked back and forth between Noah and Kurt. "Noah, why don't you walk with me a little while and let Kurt have a break? I think maybe he should call Burt and Carol."

"Oh. Okay." Kurt flashed her a thankful smile before kissing Noah again and making a break for the waiting area near the elevators. It was empty and quiet, so he sunk into a chair and took his first deep breath in three hours before pulling out his cell to dial the garage. The phone was picked up on the second ring. "Hummel Tires and Lube. This is Alex. How may I direct your call." Who the hell was Alex? Whoever he was, he sounded young.

"Alex. This is Kurt Hummel. Is my father there?"

"Kurt! Oh, you're Beth's dad's husband."

"Yes. Is my father there?"

"Yes. Hold on."

He heard fumbling as Alex set the phone down and hollered "Mr. Hummel! Your son is on the phone."

There was a pause, and footsteps, and then the calming influence of his dad's voice. "Kurt. Is everything okay?"

"Laura's in labor. Noah and I are with her at the hospital now."

"Wow. She's early."

"Just two weeks. The doctor said that's not unusual with young moms."

"Good. Good. Okay."

"Dad? Who's Alex?"

"Oh. He's one of Beth's friends from Glee. He needed a job, and a safe place to kind of . . . be himself? He answers the phones, works the counter. He does better at the books than either you or I ever did. He's a good kid. Reminds me of you."

"He's gay."

"Yeah."

"And Beth sent him to you because she knew you'd protect him." Kurt felt tears prick the edges of his eyes.

"I guess. I think it's good for him, too."

"Yeah."

"You okay, kiddo?"

"Yeah. A little scared, a lot excited. It's a little overwhelming."

"I remember feeling like that when you were born, too."

"Does it go away?"

"No. You're going to be a dad. Scared, excited and overwhelmed are about to be part of your daily life."

"Great." Kurt let out a shuddery laugh.

"You should get back to Laura. Call me when the baby's here. Even if it's the middle of the night."

"Okay. Bye, Dad."

"Love you, kid."

Noah and Laura were heading down the hallway away from him when he turned the corner, and he ran to catch up with them.

"Where are you heading?"

Noah looked at him behind Laura's back. "Time to rest a little bit."

"Okay."

* * *

><p>Laura napped for the better part of the afternoon and evening, and Noah and Kurt napped as well, leaning against each other in the hard plastic chairs that were tucked into a corner of the room. Laura's OB knew about the adoption, and had made the nurses aware as well. Noah was surprised to see Kurt turn into a caretaker supreme, intercepting the nurses before they could wake Laura to check her progress. He kept her eating and drinking between laps in the hallway, and supported her as her contractions got stronger and longer. The three of them had existed in a kind of haze for hours, and Noah was shocked to look outside when the doctor came in and pronounced that it was time to start pushing to see that it was pitch black.<p>

"It's late," he blurted to nobody in particular.

"Close to midnight. A beautiful night to have a baby," Dr. Andrews said, smiling at the three of them. "Are you all ready?"

"Definitely." Laura shifted in the bed. "Please, let's have this baby soon."

"Noah? Kurt?"

"Uh huh." Kurt looked a little pale, and Noah reached out and took his hand.

"We're ready," he told Dr. Andrews with feigned confidence.

"Great. Let's have us a baby!"

Noah could see why Laura liked her so much. She was gentle and patient, and let Laura direct the process. It was so unlike Beth's delivery that Noah couldn't quite believe the end result was going to be the same. Laura was calm and fairly quiet, and strong and beautiful. She rested between pushes, let Kurt feed her ice chips. Noah stood behind her, and supported her through the last few difficult pushes, and she cried out in relief when Noelle Elizabeth Hummel came into the world at 12:04 am on May 25th.

The baby was taken away to be weighed and measured, and Kurt helped Laura into the shower while a nurse changed the bed linens and cleaned up the room. Noah just sat with his head in his hands, marveling about that little girl who was his and not, and the teenager who was his and not, and how funny and strange and random life could be sometimes. He felt Kurt standing quietly over him, so he stood and took his husband in his arms.

They were interrupted by Laura's nurse holding Noelle, swaddled tight in a pink blanket with a tiny white hat on her head.

"Who wants to hold her first?" The nurse was smiling. Kurt looked at Noah and said "I think we should wait for Laura," but they were interrupted by her voice, faint from behind the closed door of the bathroom. "It's okay. I've held her for nine months. You guys take a turn."

Kurt went over and took the baby, and then crossed the room back to Noah. "Here, Papa. Happy Birthday," he said as he placed Noelle into Noah's arms. Noah stared back at him, eyes wide with surprise.

"It's not . . ."

"Yes. It is. Today's your birthday. And hers." At that, Noelle opened her eyes and stared up at him before opening her tiny mouth and yawning. She let out a little squeak and closed her eyes again. Noah just held her there, close against his chest, drinking in the clean baby-powder scent of her. She was beautiful and perfect and felt just as right in his arms as if he'd helped create her. When Laura emerged from the bathroom, hair in a wet braid and wearing clean pajamas, he handed Noelle over to Kurt before wrapping Laura in his arms.

"Thank you. Thank you for this gift. She is a miracle."

"You're welcome." Laura laughed in his arms and said "Please let me get back into bed before I fall over."

"And then you should hold your daughter." Kurt spoke from behind them.

And that's how the nurse found the three of them half an hour later when she came to check on the baby: Laura, asleep with Kurt curled around her in the bed while Noah slept in a chair next to the bed with the baby on his chest. She closed the door gently behind her and let the unconventional little family rest.


	21. Chapter 19

One of the things Noah hadn't anticipated was how much laundry a baby went through in a day. Before they switched Noelle to a soy formula, she had been incredibly fussy; she would spit up after every feeding, which resulted in many changes of clothes (for her and for whoever had been feeding and burping) every day. That wasn't the problem. The problem was the damn baby socks, in every shade and combination of pink and white that existed. Noah found them everywhere: tangled in the feet of tiny sleepers, stuck to the t-shirts and tank tops he and Kurt would toss in with the baby clothes because they could never seem to do a complete load of their own laundry, under the sofa, tucked between the mattress and the sides of the crib. Everywhere but actually _on_ the baby's feet. He finally just got a little basket that he set on the coffee table, and used it to collect all the stray socks that seemed to multiply like bunnies. Kurt laughed at him at first, and then turned the whole thing into a game; they kept a tally of the strangest places they found the socks, and at the end of the summer the winner would get to pick the location of their first post-baby date night.

* * *

><p>Kurt hadn't been prepared for how fiercely he loved Noelle. Or for how hard it seemed to connect with Noah those first few weeks. They were both exhausted. Tiny humans took lots of time and attention, and Kurt was more than a little jealous that Noah had the whole summer off. Not that Kurt's practice hadn't been practically decimated by summer camps or vacations either woodsy or beachy, but there were still days when he had to dress professionally and leave the house and be wise and articulate while Noah got to spend every day just sort of puttering around and watching the baby sleep. There were days when he felt like a third wheel intruding on whatever dynamic had been established while he was at the office, and sometimes it just hurt. And then there were the days when he didn't have to go to the office at all, when Noah would go out on purpose, to run errands for diapers and formula, or to the Y to play basketball, so that Kurt got his own alone time with Noelle. Those were the days he'd sit with her cradled in his arms on the porch swing and sing to her softly, or whisper stories about her crazy-amazing extended family. And when Noah got home, he would smile at Kurt's lazy and relaxed posture, kiss him on the cheek and whisper "Baby bliss. It's <em>almost<em> better than sex!" Except that they weren't having sex.

Kurt had a kind-of colleague down the hall from his office, a woman who worked with families of atypically developing children; he'd given her a couple of referrals, and she responded in kind in the rare instance when she met a troubled child who would benefit from Kurt's work. Reba had a daughter who was almost a year old, and they had started having lunch once a week back in the fall, right after he and Noah had first met Laura. One July Wednesday, he broached the topic with her as they tried to beat the heat with Del's Lemonade and a shared fruit salad.

"How long after the baby did you and Gary start . . . um."

"Doing the nasty?"

Kurt snorted, and then coughed in a decidedly undignified way as he choked on his lemonade. "Yes. I mean, I know it's different since neither of us actually gave birth to Noelle, but . . ."

"But nothing. It doesn't matter. A baby changes things. She's what, six weeks old?"

"Seven."

"Still getting up to feed her in the middle of the night?"

"Yeah."

"Well, there you go. You're both exhausted, and you're still learning how to be parents. It will all level out. I think Adele was maybe nine or ten weeks, but we had to leave her with my parents for the night."

Kurt sighed. "There goes that idea, then."

"Why?"

"Both our families are in Ohio. And we don't have anyone here that we'd leave her with."

"What about Laura?"

"A good option, but her internship ends on Friday and then she's going home to Indiana for August.

"If you get desperate, you can always leave her with us. But Gary and I also mastered the fine art of the quickie."

Kurt blushed, and tossed his straw wrapper at Reba. She laughed, and waited until his blush subsided before saying "Hey, it was better than nothing!"

* * *

><p>Family Week snuck up on them. They'd made reservations over the winter, so on the first Sunday of August they packed up the Subaru and drove down to Provincetown. Noah knew that Kurt had been feeling off for lots of the summer. He wanted desperately to make it up to him. He had planned lots of beach time, and lots of naps, and lots of time for Kurt to be with Noelle, just <em>with<em> her. And he also had a secret plan, a scheduled date night and Noelle's first time with a babysitter for their last night in P-town. He hoped it would help get them back to normal as a couple, as themselves. Because he missed Kurt something awful.

They had a great week, relaxing and meeting other families. On Saturday night, Noah sent Kurt back to the B&B after the beach, saying that he'd follow behind with Noelle. "Take a nice long shower, don't wait on me. I'll walk her to sleep." Kurt's face lit up, which made Noah smile.

"Thanks."

"No prob." But instead of following behind, Noah dropped the baby at the babysitting co-op that had been set up for the week at the community center. Some of the other parents they'd met had used the service, and had nothing but good things to say about it. Noah knew Noelle would be fine. After all, they'd only be out for a couple of hours.

When he returned to the room, he could smell the citrus of Kurt's shampoo. The bathroom was steamy and the shower was still going, so Noah stripped out of his t-shirt and swim trunks and joined his husband. Kurt startled with surprise before asking "is the baby asleep?"

"Better."

"What can be better than asleep?"

"I have a surprise for you." At Kurt's inquisitive look, Noah went on. "You and I have a date. And Noelle is at the co-op." Noah could see mild concern creep into Kurt's face, so he headed full blown panic off before it could start. "It's okay. It came highly recommended. They have both of our cell numbers. And it's not like we're an hour away. If anything goes wrong, we can walk there in five minutes. And we need this." He leaned into Kurt then, resting his chin on Kurt's shoulder and breathing in their nearness. It had been too long.

After a minute, he felt Kurt's sigh before he heard it. "You're right. We do need it." Kurt's arms tightened around him, and he shivered at the contact. Kurt's voice was heavy. "God, I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too. C'mon. Let's get this show on. We have a reservation!"

* * *

><p>Kurt was still slightly boneless from the hot shower and Noah's wandering hands and demanding mouth when they settled in at the restaurant. He was also ravenous. In some ways, it felt strange to be out without the baby. But it was also nice to just see each other, to talk and laugh without the added pressure of bottles and burping and diapers and bedtime. The food was good, fresh seafood and homemade bread. A glass of wine each, and decadent chocolate cake for dessert. They were lingering after the bill was paid and the last plates were cleared away, fingers touching across the table, when Kurt caught sight of a familiar dark head across the room.<p>

"Well. Crap." He didn't even realize he'd spoken when Noah looked at him.

"What?"

"I think. Hm. I think _Blaine_ is here."

"No fucking way."

"Yes." Kurt grinned conspiratorially at Noah. "Should we make a fast getaway?"

"If we leave now, we can miss him _and _still have an hour before we have to pick up the baby."

"We can do a lot in an hour."

But they weren't quick enough. Noah had taken Kurt's hand and was leading him out of the restaurant when Kurt heard the voice.

"Kurt? Noah?"

Kurt turned, and could feel Noah's arms wrapping around him. Not out of possession, Kurt knew that, but out of protectiveness. Noah knew how hard it had been for Kurt to let Blaine go, to let him drift out of his life. It had been a loss, and it had hurt. But for Kurt, it was all in the past. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd even wondered about Blaine. Even so, he plastered a smile across his face and let go of his plans for having Noah naked in bed before he spoke.

"Blaine. Hi." Kurt had to admit, he looked good. "Are you here for Family Week?"

"What?" Blaine looked puzzled, and then shook his head. "No. Just down for the day. We took the ferry out from Boston." He gestured with his head to a tall brown haired man behind him. "Thomas is up from D.C. for the weekend, and he's never been down here. How about you?"

Kurt leaned back into the warmth of Noah's arms, the firmness of his body. "We're back to Providence tomorrow, but we've been here for the week. We actually can't stay; we really have to pick the baby up at the sitter."

Kurt watched as Blaine choked on his words. "Baby. Really. Wow." Clearly he hadn't been in touch with _any_ of their old friends. But that wasn't Kurt's problem.

Noah's voice vibrated against his ear. "Yeah. A little girl, Noelle. After Kurt's mom. She's nine weeks old."

"Congratulations." Blaine cleared his throat, and turned to the man. Thomas. "Tom, come here for a second. I want you to meet some friends. This is Kurt." Thomas' handshake was exactly the kind Kurt hated, moist and limp, so he overcompensated by squeezing a little too firmly. "And Noah." Noah reached out with his right hand, but left his other arm around Kurt's waist. "Kurt and I went to school together back in Ohio. And Noah is his husband. They've been together for ages."

"Thirteen years," Kurt finally blurted out. "But we really do . . ."

"Have to go," Noah finished as he turned Kurt away.

"It was nice to see you, Blaine." Kurt tried not to shout as Noah led him out the door. The last look he got before Blaine and Thomas were lost in the crowd was a shadow of sadness crossing Blaine's face. Kurt tried to feel bad, but he couldn't. His life really had no place for Blaine anymore. And besides, he still had plans for Noah to be naked and in bed.

* * *

><p>After the baby was picked up, fed, diapered, and put to bed in the bassinette, and after Kurt had left Noah (quietly) satisfied, they lay wrapped together.<p>

"I've missed you," Kurt whispered against his chest.

"Me, too. I hate feeling like we need to schedule us time, but maybe we should start."

"Maybe" Kurt sighed, a kind of melancholy sigh. "Things will get better. It's a big adjustment."

"It is. We'll get used to it. It'll be easier when she starts sleeping through the night. We're going to be fine." Noah said it as much to convince himself as to convince Kurt. He wrapped his arm a little tighter around Kurt and nudged him up for a kiss. It was the little things they had been missing in the haze of baby, the small ways they had always been together that had taken a backseat. He thought about their Boston days, back when Kurt was first in grad school, about how hard it had been to come back to each other after Noah had just closed himself off. He thought about the couple's therapy, and his own sessions (the ones Kurt didn't know about, and the ones Kurt thought Noah didn't know about). It had helped. They had worked hard, and they had the tools to make things work. He gathered his voice and told Kurt as much.

"We know how to do this. It's not going to be as easy as it was before Noelle. We're going to have to work for it."

Kurt relaxed under Noah's arms, and whispered "I want to. I want to work for it."

"Good. Me, too." Noah pressed a kiss to Kurt's head. "When we get back to town, we'll work out a schedule for regular date nights. I have a few students I can call to sit for a few hours once a week."

"I'd like that."

* * *

><p>Life picked up after P-Town; most of Kurt's clients were back from vacation, and Noah was starting to get ready for the new school year. They secured a spot for Noelle in the childcare at Noah's school, a small center for the faculty and staff with an infant room capped at four children. Every Friday night they left Noelle with Macy, one of Noah's Advanced Biology students who was off to the University of Chicago in the fall, and they went on little dates. WaterFire, a free play in Roger Williams Park, dinner and a movie. Kurt remarked one night that it felt like they were rediscovering each other all over again, and in some ways it was.<p>

The week before school started, Noelle slept through the night for the first time.

The next morning, Kurt called Reba and asked if she and her husband would be willing to take Noelle for the day. Reba laughed heartily into the phone. "I guess she finally slept through the night!"

"Yes," Kurt replied. "And Daddy and Papa are celebrating! I'll drop her off in an hour."

It was the kind of day they had loved back in Boston, back before they fully understood adult life and responsibilities, the kind of day that would find them hazy with lovemaking and sleep before stumbling out for dinner, still drunk on each other. Fall hadn't really set in yet; the sun was high in the sky, the leaves still green, the air on the edge of cool as it played with the curtains in the bedroom. Noah breathed in Kurt's scent, the citrus of his shampoo mingling with the spice of his aftershave, and all of it overlaid with what Noah was coming to know as Noelle's scent, baby shampoo and the lavender lotion Kurt liked to rub into her skin at bedtime. It was a new world, but it was their world.

Noah pressed a line of kisses down Kurt's spine, and watched him squirm even in sleep; he'd always been sensitive there. He smiled as Kurt rolled over, opened sleep-heavy eyes, and tugged Noah down for a proper kiss. When Kurt broke away, his voice was full with what Noah knew was love.

"All these years, and you still amaze me."

Noah stretched out next to Kurt. He had always been happy, but now he was experiencing something else: contentment. He let a little puff of air out through his lips, thought about how they'd grown into their relationship, marveled at all the tiny decisions that had brought them there. But it all came down to one thing, to both of them taking a chance back when they were still boys.

"You're still all there's ever been for me." He ran his finger over Kurt's wedding band, which was slightly cool against both of their warm hands. "When is Reba expecting us?"

"I told her we'd be there by 5:00. Why?"

"Damn. I thought maybe we'd have time for another round."

"Nope." Kurt sounded disappointed, but then his voice crept up with a partially unfinished thought. "Race you to the shower?"

The sweet air followed Noah up the hall, and he wondered if was possible to be _more_ in love with Kurt than he was at 18. The whole day felt like magic, like love and heartbreak and hope, like a new beginning.

Half an hour later, renewed from the gift of a day together and in lazy day jeans and t-shirts, they went off to pick up their daughter. It felt like the first day of the rest of their lives.


	22. Epilogue

May, 2032, South Hadley MA

Kurt hoists Noelle up onto his shoulders so she can see above the crowd of women in white. Her voice is tinged with excitement. "Where's Bethie? I can't see her!"

He modulates his tone, trying to calm her. "We have to wait, Sweet-Pea. It's going to be a while. There's going to be a parade first."

"Oh. I guess that's okay."

The crowd presses around them, parents and siblings and families of the women there for their reunions. It isn't the first time Kurt and Noah have brought Noelle to the campus; they've come every fall for Family Weekend, and before Christmas to hear Beth sing with the Glee Club. They've hosted her and her girlfriend for Fall Break, and the occasional weekend escape. But this is the first time they've been here with Will and Shelby, and it's the most important visit of all.

It's a nice event, this alumnae parade. Kurt keeps hold of Noelle's legs while Noah reads the program aloud, talking about how the women all wear white to honor suffragettes, and how the colors that pop against the mass of white represent each class. After the parade, the seniors will wind a thick laurel chain around the fence at the college founder's grave, and everyone will sing to welcome the seniors into the ranks of alumnae. A lot of pageantry, Noah grumbles under his breath, even though Kurt knows he's secretly so proud of Beth that he could just about burst. A lot of tradition, Kurt thinks, and sisterhood, and he can't help wonder what all of this might mean to Noelle someday when she's old enough to understand.

Just when Noelle is getting restless above him, the trill of bagpipes pierces the air and the sea of white is moving. The oldest classes first, in antique cars, down to the class that's two years out from their own graduation. And then the seniors are in front of them, four across and swathed in green laurel. Noah is anxiously craning his neck next to Kurt, seeking out the telltale curl and sparkle of Beth's hair.

It's Noelle who finally spies her, about halfway down the line, her girlfriend Jamie on one side and her best friend Kelly on the other. Noelle is screeching in that way she has reserved for princesses and pink and her doting sister.

"Bethie! Bethie!"

Kurt doesn't understand how Beth can hear anything over the bagpipes and shouts of people around them, but she turns then, all open smile and sad eyes. Kurt's heart breaks a little, because she looks so much like Noah in that moment, but when Beth smiles and drops Kelly's hand to wave, he smiles and waves back. Noah blows her a kiss, and Kurt can hear Will bellow over everyone. _Love you, Beth!_

Kurt feels Noah searching out his hand between them, and when Kurt reaches for him, he's met with a crushing grip. It's not nerves, or fear, not anymore and not for years. Kurt knows it like he knows his own heart, the wonder and pride and sometimes overwhelming disbelief that they are still here, together, with their crazy-happy-decidedly unconventional family. Kurt knows that life is completely random most of the time, a reflection of choices made and chances taken. All of it is like a maze; his own maze started long before Noah, but he also knows that Noah's started with the young woman in white. Despite all the chances they've both taken over the years, if it weren't for having Beth and losing her, Kurt knows Noah never would have taken the first step into his life.

He's grateful for that, and that they both got to find her again.

Today is a day for celebration, and for family. They'll all greet Beth before she's swept off to other obligations, and when Will sweeps Noelle off of Kurt's shoulders and flips her over before setting her on the ground, Kurt can hear her asking "Uncle Will, can we feed the ducks?"

Shelby pulls a small baggie of bread out of her purse, and Noelle hugs it to her chest as she skips ahead of them on the sidewalk.

This isn't the family Kurt used to dream of when he was a little boy. It's better; it's unique, and it's all his.


End file.
